


This Is What Hollows (discontinued)

by constellationqueen



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Pre-Canon, Raven!Neil, Slow Burn, Torture, but it is, but no one is shy about saying the word, fight me, i mean it's not canon at all but, idk i'll add later, like very very briefly, nothing happens on screen, tbh this wasn't supposed to be kandreil, uhhhhh, when i get farther along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 68,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationqueen/pseuds/constellationqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PLEASE BE ADVISED:</p><p>I am no longer working on this fic. However, if it sounds interesting, I am rewriting it. The new fic is still titled "This Is What Hollows" and can be found <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/9639437/chapters/21776339">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sam why are you starting a new fic, don't you already have two wips?"  
> Why yes, in fact, I do. But you don't understand how desperately I need more Raven!Neil in my life.

It’s a little after five in the morning when Andrew gets woken up by Kevin’s phone alerting to a text message. Kevin, not easily roused from sleep, doesn’t wake up. Andrew waits, staring at Aaron’s bunk above him, and two minutes later the phone dings again, reminding Kevin of the message. Kevin still doesn’t wake. Satisfied that he’s not going to be disturbed any more, Andrew closes his eyes and tries to fall back asleep. He doesn’t get far before Kevin’s phone is ringing, blaringly loud, and in a ringtone Andrew has never heard before.

“What the _fuck_?” Aaron complains, shifting around on his bed.

Nicky is up too. “Kevin, answer your goddamn phone.”

The words aren’t even halfway out of Nicky’s mouth when Kevin bolts into a sitting position and presses the phone to his ear. He looks wide awake and in pain, his broken hand cradled to his stomach.

Kevin snaps something in French into the cellphone. Andrew can’t pinpoint the emotion in his voice, but the pinch around the word makes Andrew sit up.

There’s a pause for a moment while Kevin’s face gets pale. Kevin speaks again, his voice shaking, and gets to his feet. Tight muscles move him back and forth, up and down the room. Kevin’s mouth opens to say something else when Andrew’s phone rings.

Frowning, Andrew reaches for it and answers without so much as a _hello_.

“Why is there a boy bleeding against the door of the court?”

“Why are you asking me?” Andrew knows that his medication gives off the impression that he’s psychotic, but he has only killed one person in his life, and no one knows about that. Wymack should know better than to assume Andrew would do something that would end with him behind bars. Although, he supposes, the boy is _bleeding_ , not dead. Still, if it had been Andrew, he wouldn’t have left the body in front of the stadium.

“Is that Coach?” Kevin demands, and then promptly hangs up his own phone and steals Andrew’s. Andrew lets him, curious now to see how the two calls are connected. “Coach,” Kevin pauses to wait for Wymack to say something. “No!”

Nicky jolts at the sudden outburst from Kevin and swears under his breath as he climbs down from his lofted bed.

“Don’t take him to a hospital,” Kevin says, voice low and urgent. “Please, Coach, don’t. Yes, it is. I know you don’t but please, just take him to Abby’s. We’ll meet you there.”

Kevin hangs up and holds the phone out to Andrew, who stares at it a beat before looking up at Kevin with a flat expression. Andrew’s meds have been out of his system long enough that he doesn’t feel the need to smile. “Incentive,” Andrew says, lifting an eyebrow.

“A kid might die.”

“Don’t care. Next.”

“Andrew –” Nicky quickly shuts up when Andrew shoots him a glare.

Kevin tries again. “He’s… it’s – a message. From Riko.”

“We’re not going,” Andrew says, grabbing his phone and moving to climb back into bed.

Kevin grabs him and spins him around, ignoring the knife Andrew suddenly has in his hand.

“Your guilt is not my concern, Kevin Day,” Andrew says, slowly and clearly, reminding Kevin of their deal, of the terms and conditions that Kevin agreed to.

“It’s not guilt,” Kevin snaps, pushing away and beginning his pacing again. Aaron, finally on the floor with the rest of them, steps backwards and out of his way.

“What is it, then,” Andrew asks, though it comes out more like a statement.

Kevin stops moving, shoulders hunched, lips pressed tightly together. “Famil… -iarity,” Kevin says slowly. “Familiarity.”

 _Family_ is what Kevin almost said, and with Kevin’s dead mother and a father lost to the wind, Andrew finds that answer intriguing enough to start getting dressed.

Everyone follows suit without questions, and soon enough they’re all heading from the suite. Andrew locks up behind them, and as he’s stepping away from the door, Matt sticks his head into the hall from the room he shares with Seth and Jacob. “Where are you guys going?”

“Go back to sleep, Boyd,” Kevin says, and before Matt can say anything else, Andrew’s group is already heading down the stairs.

Andrew doesn’t unlock the car until they’re right beside it, and he physically pushes Kevin towards the back door. “What did I d–”

Andrew points at him and shakes his head as he backs around to the drivers seat. “You lie to me again, and worse things will happen to you than sitting in the backseat.” Andrew unlocks the car and slides in, but not before noticing Aaron and Nicky exchanging glances over the hood of the car. “Nicky,” Andrew says, twisting the key to bring the engine to life.

“Yeah?”

“Get in the front.”

When everyone is buckled, Andrew peels out of the lot, swerving around what little traffic there is. They make it to Abby’s in just shy of five minutes, and Wymack’s vehicle is already parked on the curb.

There’s no point in knocking when they’re expected company, but Andrew shouts, “Hey, Coach,” when he steps inside anyway.

Wymack appears around the corner, but before he can say anything, Kevin has pushed to the front of Andrew. “Where is he?” Kevin demands.

Andrew watches Wymack look Kevin up and down before digging in his pocket. “Abby says no visitors, but if Aaron wants to help he’s more than welcome.” Wymack looks at Andrew when he says it, and when Andrew shrugs, Aaron slips past and moves down the hall. “There’s vodka in the kitchen,” Wymack continues, just as he hands Kevin a piece of paper. “I’m assuming this is for you.”

The thick stationary falls to the ground when Kevin drops it, and Andrew doesn’t follow as Kevin makes for the kitchen and the promised alcohol. Instead, Andrew crouches down and lifts the paper up himself. The dried – and wet – blood makes it difficult to discern the handwriting, but it’s legible enough.

_This one’s on you. –R_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I should at least give you guys the perspective that you're going to be stuck with for the rest (or most of the rest) of the story. Everyone meet Nathaniel.

Nathaniel wakes up to someone stitching his abdomen. He knows better than to panic, because if he moves, Jean could fuck up and damage Nathaniel worse than he is. Neither of them would fair well for that mistake, and if Nathaniel is bad enough for stitches, he doesn’t want to make it worse.

The problem, as Nathaniel is quickly figuring out, is that his body feels too numb. A line along his side where he remembers Riko’s knife – numb. A puncture wound from an object blunter than a spoon up by his shoulder – numb. Nathaniel can recognize a local anesthetic despite the fact that he’s only ever used it on himself once. And that is the problem. Riko doesn’t let them use anesthetics, which means that whoever is stitching Nathaniel right now isn’t Jean, isn’t a Raven.

He doesn’t remember, though. He passed out twice through Riko’s torture, and the second time is his last memory – Riko snarling in his face, words that Nathaniel was too gone to hear. He’s regretting that, at the moment, cursing his body for not being able to hold on long enough to hear the threat that was there.

They were supposed to return to Evermore tonight. Nathaniel is supposed to be with them.

“Aaron, hand me the – yeah, thanks.”

Nathaniel doesn’t recognize the female voice, but with her intrusion he starts realizing other things. He’s lying in a bed, a soft one. There’s dried blood cracking on his torso every time he draws a slow, smooth breath as he pretends to still be unconscious. There are two sets of hands on him, fingertips light, one set pressing on wounds that are still bleeding, the other doing the stitching. Beyond the copper stench of blood, the room smells of lavender.

No, he’s definitely not at Evermore.

The tug on his skin as the last stitch is tied and cut hurts worse than the others did, and Nathaniel has to fight and fight hard to keep from flinching or showing signs of pain. But once he’s acknowledged the hurt, it’s hard to forget about it. He hurts everywhere, which isn’t unusual walking out of a session with Riko, but this is different, it feels different, and not just because he’s been abandoned.

_They abandoned me._

That alone nearly sends Nathaniel into a panic attack. No. _No._ Stop, breathe. He needs to get a grip. He isn’t going to let these people know that he’s awake, not until it’s on his terms.

So he focuses on the steady count of breaths that are fast enough to get air in his lungs and still slow enough for unconsciousness. He blanks his mind as much as he can, starts to build up his solid, sheer wall of blackness, as blank as he needs to be. He pushes out the pain and keeps it out. He’s not here, he’s not anywhere.

It takes an eternity for the two people to finish with the stitching and the bandaging, but finally a door closes, and Nathaniel is left alone.

He opens his eyes and blinks at the darkness of the small room. There’s just enough light seeping around the window shades to provide Nathaniel with the outlines of the closed door, the small vanity, the smaller dresser, and the bedside table to his right. He takes a deep breath and pushes to his elbows. Black spots dance across his vision and he loses some of his already limited breath, but he continues to a sitting position.

_Where am I?_

That’s ground zero. If Nathaniel can figure that out, then he can piece together the rest of the story.

Voices slowly seep under the door, and Nathaniel gets to his feet. He sways as blood rushes from his head, and he stumbles over to the wall, catching himself quietly against it. A sharp pain that he hadn’t felt while lying down shoots through him. His knees shake and he almost loses his feet, but he manages to brace himself against the wall enough to remain standing. He’s not wearing a shirt, but he doesn’t care, making his way to the door and silently opening it. The hallway ahead of him is straight, short, and bright, and it takes Nathaniel a moment to get his eyes to adjust.

The voices are louder now.

“Who’s going to tell me,” demands the woman’s voice, the one who was in the room stitching Nathaniel, “why there’s a bleeding boy in my guest room?” Her house, then. Nathaniel stores that information away as he makes his way down the hall, leaning a little too heavily against the wall, but he’s aware that he lost too much blood for his balance to be better and for his body to be stronger.

“I –”

Nathaniel stops at the end of the hallway, frozen by that new voice. It has only been a month since he’s heard it, but it sends his pulse to his throat. Before he can panic, and before he can be noticed without announcing himself, he says, “You know that bleeding boy has ears, right?”

So much movement happens at once that Nathaniel has a difficult time in this state taking it all in.

The Foxes’ coach, David Wymack, is standing off to the side of the room, in a spot where Nathaniel can barely see, and he quickly shoots a sharp look at Nathaniel. Freshman backliner Nicholas Hemmick is wearily standing in front of the sole armchair in the room, face drained of color as his eyes travel over Nathaniel’s body. The woman, who is currently standing the closest to Nathaniel, whips around with a look of shock or horror on her dark face. Her hair is pulled back in a high pony tail, and her clothes are stained with blood. Nathaniel thinks he remembers her as Abigail, the team nurse, but he’s not familiar with her. Across the room is freshman backliner Aaron Miyard, bottle of scotch in his hand, with clothes just as stained. His cleaner, mirror image, freshman goalkeeper Andrew Minyard, is straight across from Nathaniel, standing in a protective stance in front of ex-striker Kevin Day.

“Kevin,” Nathaniel says, voice flat and steady while his lip curls up in distaste. The cast on Kevin’s hand is still there, though Nathaniel only saw him in it for a brief moment before Kevin disappeared from Evermore. Those green eyes are wide and scared – almost unfamiliar to Nathaniel. Fear is not something he’s ever been able to associate with Kevin Day, not unless Riko was in one of his moods.

“I – How – Nathaniel…” Kevin can’t complete a sentence, which has Nathaniel narrowing his eyes. It’s only been a month, and Kevin has lost so much spine. Riko didn’t break him that bad. It was only a hand.

Abigail lets out a choked noise before Nathaniel can think of a haughty enough reply to Kevin’s unfinished question. “How long have you been awake?”

Nathaniel looks her way very briefly, taking her in once more. “An hour, give or take,” he says without emotion, though he leaves no doubt for anyone that he’s telling the truth. “You didn’t get the numbing agent all the way over the long one on my stomach,” he taps the bandage over that particular cut without looking. “The last stitch hurt a bit.”

Aaron swears under his breath, moving to stand closer to Nicholas, who just collapses into the armchair.

Nathaniel tracks the movement and almost misses Kevin stepping closer.

“Nath-”

“Don’t fucking come near me,” Nathaniel snarls, holding his ground and curling his hands into fists. “Don’t you fucking dare.” This is Kevin’s fault. Nathaniel isn’t stupid enough to think otherwise, and regardless of how many years he’s known Kevin, regardless of their shared history, that’s not something Nathaniel is ready or willing to let go of.

Andrew moves his body just enough to get Nathaniel’s attention, and Nathaniel watches as the blond pushes Kevin back hard enough that Kevin stumbles. Nathaniel drags his gaze down Andrew’s body, taking in his physique, his loose limbs, his armbands, his emotionless gaze. Nathaniel sees himself there, but he doesn’t mention it. “So you’re the reason Kevin transferred here,” he says instead, keeps the words slow while he waits to see a reaction. When none comes, he dismisses the importance and the threat of Andrew, despite the rumors circulating about his mental stability. “From what I’ve seen so far this year, you’re not worth it.”

“I keep trying to tell that to Kevin,” Andrew says, and there’s an instigator’s inflection pushing through the words, “but he doesn’t listen.”

Nathaniel shoots a look at Kevin, who is still staring at Nathaniel as if he’s waiting for a second head to sprout. “Clearly,” he says, a dismissal of the conversation, a dismissal of Kevin.

He turns his eyes to Abigail, who still looks horrified, but Nathaniel knows it’s not fear. “Bathroom?” he asks, and he tries to make it sound like a request and not an order. She did stitch him up, after all.

She nods, once, quickly, and then again. “Yeah. I’ll go grab some clothes for you. I think you’ll fit into some of my pajamas…” She hurries from the living room to the other side of the house, where Nathaniel doesn’t doubt there is a master bedroom. When she returns, Nathaniel follows her down the hall.

They’re barely out of sight of the living room when there’s a shout of, “Andrew!” and the thud of a body hitting a wall.

Smirking, Nathaniel takes the clothes from the woman and locks himself in the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neil meets the rest of the Foxes

Nathaniel has never been to the Foxhole Court, and he can’t say that he’s been missing much. The bright orange is nauseating, and somehow the stark white only makes things worse. The court is in good condition but not great condition – it looks too new. There aren’t enough players or enough fans to wear it in, to make it into a great stadium. The only truly positive thing Nathaniel can say about the court is that the bright colors, though horrendous, give the stadium an open interior, far to the contradiction of Evermore’s suffocating black.

“Who the fuck is that?”

Nathaniel looks up as the misfit team of Foxes filters into the lounge, joining the small group that’s already here. Andrew Minyard and his monsters are all piled onto one sofa, none of them looking particularly comfortable, except for Andrew, who is watching his teammates enter the room, a grin perched on his lips. Andrew isn’t sober today.

“Questions later,” Wymack barks. “Sit down and shut up.”

The man who had spoken is Jacob Carter, fifth year senior starting striker, and Nathaniel tracks him as he comes around the back of the second sofa and takes a seat. Nathaniel holds Jacob’s gaze until a low whistle catches his attention.

“I thought Andrew was the worst thing you could drag in here, Coach,” Danielle Wilds, junior offensive dealer, says, not unkindly. Danielle is the captain of the Palmetto State Foxes, the first female captain in Class I history. Nathaniel has yet to see why she’s been granted such a title.

“Nice to see you too, Dan,” Andrew says, and the smile he throws her is sharp. Unfriendly.

Matthew Boyd, sophomore backliner, bristles behind Dan, but calms when Renee Walker, junior goalkeeper, touches his arm. “Andrew,” Renee says, not a reprimand, but something close. Andrew just winks at her and watches the others file in.

Senior striker Brian Seth Gordon, who prefers to go by his middle name, junior defensive dealer Allison Reynolds, fifth year senior offensive dealer James Brown, and fifth year senior striker Raphael Cortez all find places on the furniture alongside their teammates.

“Coach?” Dan prods, nodding towards where Nathaniel is leaning against the wall while trying not to look at him too long.

Nathaniel knows that that’s fear. Maybe not fear of Nathaniel himself, but fear of what Nathaniel’s presence means.

“Found him unconscious and bleeding against the door to the court,” Wymack explains, leaning against the television stand and folding his arms over his chest. “Kevin convinced me to bring him to Abby’s instead of the hospital –”

“What the fuck, Kevin?” James interrupts, turning in his seat to glare across the room.

Andrew tosses a casual glance at James and lifts an eyebrow. “Stay on your side, Brown.”

Shockingly, James turns back around to face Wymack. Nathaniel can see the tension in James’ shoulders, his jaw, and he’s instantly curious how tiny brick house Andrew Minyard managed to get every member of the Foxes afraid of him in just about half a season. Maybe _afraid_ isn’t the best word, but Nathaniel has no doubt that no one is willing to fuck with Andrew.

“Anyway,” Wymack says pointedly, glaring at Andrew for a moment before looking to Nathaniel, who had refused to sit down in a chair. He could stand. He _would_ stand. So long as he was on his feet, he was fine. “Wanna tell us why you’re here?”

“I’m here because you wouldn’t let me leave this morning,” Nathaniel says easily.

“He’s a warning,” Kevin supplies, voice hollow, bags under his eyes from little to no sleep. Nathaniel can’t find it in himself to feel sorry for the ex-striker, current assistant coach. “From Riko. Well,” Kevin continues, despite the collective intake of breath from the other team members, “not a warning.”

“Scare tactic,” Nathaniel says. “That’s as close as it’s going to get. I’m supposed to be dead, and my death was supposed to rattle Kevin enough to get him to… I don’t know. Return home? Go somewhere else? I don’t care.”

“That’s not my home.” Kevin’s protest is weak and said with soft words.

“Bullshit,” Nathaniel says, no heat in his voice. “You’ve only been gone for a month; you haven’t changed that fast. If you suddenly couldn’t stay here anymore, you’d go right back to the master, and Riko would be waiting for you with a sneer on his face.”

Kevin flinches, and the rest of the room is silent. Nathaniel meets Andrew’s eyes and tips his chin up in defiance. Andrew smiles, and Nathaniel isn’t sure how much of it is a threat.

“You’re a Raven,” Raphael finally whispers, stating the obvious mystery hanging in the air in front of everyone.

Allison crosses her right knee over her left and leans against Seth. “I’ve never seen him in the lineup. Or on court.”

“He doesn’t play,” Kevin says.

“But he’s got…” Matthew motions to his own cheek in order to indicate Riko’s form of branding.

Nathaniel bares his teeth at the reminder that, although once coveted by the self-proclaimed son of Exy, Nathaniel had been tossed out like trash for Kevin’s transgression.

“I’m not in college yet,” Nathaniel says, patience running low on how much needs to be spelled out for everyone. “I’ll be a freshman this coming fall.”

“You’re still in _high school_?” Nicholas demands, leaning forward and looking flabbergasted. “But you’re so…”

“Nicky?”

“Yeah Andrew?”

“Shut your mouth before he shuts it for you.”

Nathaniel is more startled by the fact that Andrew would let Nathaniel even _try_ to go after Nicky than he is by Andrew’s interruption. Apparently Nicky feels the same, because he throws Andrew a look of terror before curling deeper into the corner of the sofa.

“Okay,” Dan says, running a hand down her face. “Okay, so what do we do with him?”

“We can’t send him back,” Matthew says, and the glance he throws Nathaniel is sympathetic. “They’ll kill him.”

“No shit, Matt,” Jacob snorts, shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his close-shaved hair. “Can he stay here?”

“He can’t stay on campus, he’s not enrolled.”

“Fuck that,” Allison says, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Money could buy him a way in.”

“You volunteering to pay for his room?” Raphael asks, leaning around Seth to raise an eyebrow at Allison.

“I’ll help too,” Matt volunteers. “There’s an open bed in our room anyway.”

“Yeah but there’s only Raph and I in our room,” James says.

“How did you two end up –”

Wymack whistles, and Nathaniel can’t stop his flinch at the sudden sound. “Okay, that’s enough,” the coach says, pulling both hands down his face. “Nothing’s happening until I talk to the co-”

“No,” Nathaniel and Kevin both say at the same time. Nathaniel cuts a withering look at Kevin before continuing. “No cops. You wouldn’t have to tell anyone if you’d just let me –”

“Look, Nathaniel,” Wymack had gleaned Nathaniel’s name this morning, “I’m not going to make you stay here, but you’re, what, seventeen, right? You’re not an adult. So if you leave, I have to tell someone, and that someone is going to be the police. I’m obligated by law. If you stay, I can, probably, find a way to let it pass. I won’t subject you to these assholes, though, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Nicky says, already recovered from Andrew’s non-threat. “Love you too.”

“Shut it, Hemmick, or I’ll sign you up for the next marathon.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Saturday at two o’clock is the start time. Forms are in my office.”

“Sorry, Coach.” Nicky holds up his hands in surrender and mimes zipping his mouth.

Nathaniel doesn’t react to the exchange at all except to say, “I’m not their teammate.”

“That settles it then,” Wymack says, clapping his hands together. Nathaniel tries not to flinch, but he knows he does by the interested look Andrew gives him. “You can stay with me, though I’ve only got a sofa.”

“I’ve had worse.”

This time Kevin flinches, and the rest of the team goes silent, staring at Nathaniel in a way he doesn’t like to be stared at.

“Wait, Coach?”

Nathaniel looks to Renee, who has a small smile on her lips and a serene expression that Nathaniel doesn’t trust at all.

“What happens when the Ravens find out that Nathaniel is still alive?”

The room falls silent, and for the first time since being reunited, Nathaniel shares an uncomfortably knowing look with Kevin.

“They’ll kill him,” Kevin says, and Nathaniel nods his agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's one of those chapters where rape is mentioned briefly

David Wymack’s apartment is a lot smaller than Nathaniel had bargained for. There is no division between the living room and the kitchen, and just one short hallway that leads back to a bedroom, a small den-converted-office, and an even smaller three-fourths bathroom. Nathaniel doesn’t move much further than the entrance, and when Wymack realizes that Nathaniel isn’t following him, he stops giving his short speech about the layout of the apartment and turns to look at Nathaniel.

“Abby’s would have been better.”

Nathaniel blinks and then turns to look at Wymack, who he had almost forgotten was there. “It’s fine. I don’t need a lot of space.”

The coach grunts and shakes his head. “You can put your clothes in… well, shit. Should probably go get those for you. And whatever else you need.”

Nathaniel looks down at himself, at the yellow pajama pants and the Metallica t-shirt that Abby had lent him. “I can go shopping myself.”

“I’ll call Abby,” Wymack says at the same time, and to Nathaniel’s surprise, Wymack holds Nathaniel’s gaze when they stare at each other. “Sit,” Wymack says, pointing towards the living room. “Don’t argue with me. Abby can take you out to get you some things. I need to get some work done, anyway, and I know she’s off. Sit,” he repeats, and Nathaniel grudgingly walks into the living room and sinks onto the sofa.

It’s not even noon, and he’s exhausted. It’s an effort not to limp when he walks – it always is after a beating, but he’s so used to it now that he doesn’t think he’d be able to limp if his leg was broken. Sitting hurts, which is why Nathaniel was standing at the meeting earlier. Nathaniel doesn’t remember anything that happened to him after blacking out the second time, but he has a sinking feeling that the torture didn’t stop there.

He’d need to ask Abby for a favor, as much as he hates the idea.

“Thanks Abby. Chinese is on me tonight.” Wymack turns to Nathaniel when he hangs up the phone. “She’s going to be here in five.”

“Fine,” Nathaniel says, waving his hand for Wymack to go away and do his work.

Wymack turns with a snort, but stops after a couple of steps. “I don’t have to ask you to please not steal anything of mine, do I?”

“No,” Nathaniel says, eyes on Wymack’s back, already ticking away similarities and differences to his father. “But since you just did, I will tell you that I’m not a thief. Ravens share, but we get beat if we steal.”

After a few seconds too long of hesitation, Wymack disappears into the office. Abby arrives a few minutes later with a soft knock.

Nathaniel goes to open the door, and he calls to Wymack before he leaves with the Foxes’ nurse. Nathaniel quickly, very quickly, learns that Abby talks when she’s nervous. About her favorite TV program, her niece’s scholarship, her struggles with cooking, and everything in between. Nathaniel tunes her out as soon as he learns that they’re driving to Columbia for shopping. According to Abby, the only clothing store close to Palmetto just sells Fox merchandise.

“What are we going to do about school for you?” Abby asks as they park in front of the shopping mall. Nathaniel stares out at all of the people and suddenly doesn’t want to go inside.

“Nathaniel?” Abby’s voice is soft, but Nathaniel still tightens his fist reflexively when he looks to her. “Is everything alright?”

He turns his attention back to the people walking in and out of the mall doors. “I haven’t been in public for eight years,” he admits flatly. When he turns back to Abby, the last thing he expects to see is her heartbroken face.

“That’s… Oh, Nathaniel.”

“I don’t want your pity,” he says, tries not to snap. “I’m fine.” He’s out of the car before she can say another word, but he waits for her at the hood of the car. He still needs that favor from her.

They walk silently into the mall, Nathaniel trying not to slip into a panic attack, and Abby trying not to notice his struggling. Nathaniel ducks into the first store he sees that even sort of looks like his style.

“I think you and Andrew would get along,” Abby tries to joke as she looks around at the store.

“Doubt it,” Nathaniel says. “Can I borrow your phone?” It wasn’t the favor he desperately needed, but he had to make this call.

Abby blinks at Nathaniel’s outstretched hand. Nathaniel watches her mind whirring, watches her pulse in her neck, watches the way she tries to understand Nathaniel through everything he does. She fails to fit the pieces together before the phone is in Nathaniel’s palm. “Thank you,” he says, and disappears to the back of the store, where he spotted an ATM upon entering.

The call doesn’t take long, despite the fact that he’s transferred six times. In the end, regardless of his lack of credit card, Nathaniel is able to take five hundred dollars of his own money out of the ATM. His new card would be arriving at Wymack’s apartment in three to five business days.

Abby stares at the cash in Nathaniel’s hand when he returns the phone to her. “Did you break into it?” she jokes, though he can hear in her tone that she’s considering the possibility that he might have.

“They didn’t know I was supposed to have died last night,” Nathaniel explains, pocketing the cash as he moves to a rack of shirts. “Wasn’t an issue getting them to get me my money.”

“They… who?” Abby asks, offering to hold the three shirts Nathaniel takes off the rack.

He declines and moves on to another. “My offshore bank accounts and their technicians. I moved the money into an account without Tetsuji’s name on it, which is going to royally piss him off, but that’s just a bonus. Fact of the matter is that I have money in my hands, and you don’t have to drop personal money on me.”

Not that he would have felt guilty. There’s just no point in Abby buying him clothes when Nathaniel is self-sufficient enough. Which is good for Abby, because Nathaniel ends up spending almost all of the five hundred in this store, and the rest of it on a pair of sneakers from another shop a little further into the mall.

“Can we leave now?” Nathaniel asks, trying hard to ignore the quick glances he’s receiving from the people around them.

Abby, though still seeming more than a little dumbfounded at Nathaniel and everything that had happened inside the mall, nods and leads the way back outside to her car.

Nathaniel doesn’t like that he can’t breathe much easier inside the car than inside the mall. Enclosed spaces or people – neither are a great option.

“So…” They’re almost back to Palmetto when Abby slows her jabbering and seems to come upon real topic. “You never answered my question.”

It’s not difficult to remember which question she’s talking about, though there were many of them. “I told you that they didn’t let me go anywhere since I was… since they took me in. I’ve been taking classes online, so don’t worry about it.”

“Oh,” she says, not hiding her surprise. She offers him a smile. “If you need to use a computer and David’s hogging his, you’re always welcome to use mine.”

Nathaniel doesn’t know how to respond to the offer, to the kindness, so he doesn’t. He glances at her and then stares straight ahead, watching the trees approaching and passing, reading the signs that mark exits to towns, counting the mile markers until the numbers become a blur. There’s a catch. There’s always a catch. No kindness is free. But even knowing that, Nathaniel still asks, “You’re a nurse, right? At a clinic?”

“Sometimes,” Abby responds.

“Can you do me a favor? And will doctor-patient confidentiality apply?”

There’s a short pause, then, “Nathaniel, is something wrong?”

“I hope not. I think all you need is a cheek swab and a blood sample to test for STIs, right?”

It is probably a good thing they’re on an exit ramp when he says that, because Abby’s reaction was to hit the breaks and swerve to the side of the road.

Nathaniel reacts without thinking about it, reaching over, heart in his throat, and taking the wheel from her, pushing against it so that they stay on the road and Abby has no choice but to put her foot on the gas and keep them moving forward.

All Nathaniel can hear for a long moment is his mother screaming in his head, metal crunching, and then the lights flashing and the dead silence and blackness and terror and pain and crying and –

“Nathaniel? Are you… why do you need an STI test?”

Abby’s voice brings Nathaniel back, gets him breathing again, makes him blink his eyes and see the road in front of them just beyond the small silver horizon of the car’s hood.

“I think Riko had me raped. It wouldn’t surprise me. Bastard did it to Jean too many times to count.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dreaming of being suffocated is nothing new for Nathaniel, and neither is waking up and relearning how to breathe. But waking up without Jean across the room from him is brand new and terrifying and sends Nathaniel right into another panic attack. He gulps down air, shoving his head between his knees and counting backwards from ten thousand. He doesn’t wait until he’s completely steady before getting to his feet. He can’t, because if he waits that long Riko will find him vulnerable, or someone else will. Nathaniel knows he’s not at Evermore, he knows that he’s in the apartment of the Palmetto State Foxes’ coach David Wymack, but the instinct to run is right there, right on the surface.

He slips into Wymack’s office, where he shoved his new clothes last night, and pulls on running pants and the t-shirt Abby refused to take back. He takes the court keys from Wymack’s keychain and then makes for the door. As soon as his sneakers are on, Nathaniel is running. It was stupid not to stretch first, but he couldn’t wait that long. Anxiety consumes him, sets his nerves on fire, and Nathaniel hits the ground floor and bursts onto the street.

His body screams at him, stitches pull, and he doesn’t care if they break. He can’t breathe when he’s sitting still, he can’t breathe in the darkness of Wymack’s early morning apartment, he can’t breathe knowing that he’s been given up by two separate homes now.

The Foxhole Court doesn’t have many exterior lights, but even without them, Nathaniel would have been able to spot the fluorescent orange through the darkness. It’s his beacon, and Nathaniel picks up the pace, stretching his stride dangerously far considering he can’t see the ground beneath him.

Nathaniel stops at the outside door, panting for breath, and looks down at where his body had been slumped and bleeding out less than twenty-four hours ago. There’s no sign that anything had happened – no blood, no drag marks, nothing out of place. Still, Nathaniel eagerly presses in the code for the door, which he had seen Wymack enter the previous day, and slips inside. Darkness envelops him, and for the briefest moment he’s back home, he’s at Evermore, the last to go to bed after cleaning his gear, so all the lights are off as he makes his way to the room he shares with Jean.

He doesn’t bother turning the lights on. His fingers slide against the wall to his right in order to keep him straight, but Nathaniel retraces his path through the innards of the court from his memory of them yesterday. He pauses outside of the locker rooms, debating on borrowing some gear and a racquet, but his body’s agony won’t let him. So instead he stumbles into the lounge and finds a chair to collapse in. Nathaniel pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, and with the smell of an Exy court surrounding him, Nathaniel falls asleep.

Only to jerk awake a few hours later to a smack on the back of his head.

“Call Wymack,” Andrew calls back toward the locker rooms while Nathaniel tries to orient himself and breathe. “Tell him we’ll be there in five.”

“What… the _fuck_ ,” Nathaniel snarls past his attempts at inflating his lungs. He pushes to his feet and glares at Andrew. His body hurts, and he can feel where he pulled stitches last night, where he’s starting to bleed again through the borrowed shirt.

Andrew sweeps his gaze down Nathaniel, and Nathaniel can see how unimpressed Andrew is, despite the wide smile on his face. “Stay in the apartment next time and I won’t have to be the one who wakes you up.” Andrew laughs as Nathaniel, who feels like he’s been backed into a corner and needs to protect himself, bares his teeth.

“Andrew, come on, we’re already late for –”

Nathaniel snaps his gaze to where Kevin just entered the room. For the first time since Nathaniel woke up, he takes in the appearances of the two men. Kevin looks exhausted, like he still isn’t getting sleep, and the weary gaze he lands on Nathaniel makes him think that he’s the reason Kevin isn’t sleeping. Andrew’s pupils are blown wide, so he must have just recently taken his medication. His hair is a little messy, but that doesn’t mean anything. Kevin has donned sweatpants and a Foxes t-shirt, and Andrew is in shorts and a muscle tee.

“Let’s go,” Andrew says, laughing again at the look Nathaniel throws his way. “You can walk to the gym or you can ride with us. Backseat’s open.” He leaves before Nathaniel can say anything. Kevin stands in the doorway a moment longer, wincing as he looks down at the blood now staining Nathaniel’s shirt. “Kevin,” Andrew says, voice soft and sweet, “if you keep staring at him, I’m not going to stop him attacking you.”

Kevin blinks and hurries after Andrew, leaving Nathaniel standing alone in the lounge, pinching his brow at what had just happened. He doesn’t let himself think about it, not when he has a ride to catch with Andrew. Nathaniel isn’t stupid enough to think he can walk all the way to the gym.

“So you’re still an idiot, I see,” Kevin says as Nathaniel slides into the backseat of Andrew’s very flashy, very expensive car. He doesn’t really care about getting blood on the seat. Peroxide would get it out anyway.

“So you still only have a spine when you’ve got someone stronger backing you up, I see,” Nathaniel mocks, eyes flashing to Andrew when the blond man laughs.

“He’s got you there, Kevin.”

Nathaniel can feel Kevin’s scowl from the backseat.

“Why’d you run, Nathaniel?” Andrew asks, turning onto Perimeter Road harder than necessary. “Wymack’s threat of involving the police not severe enough to make you stay?”

For a moment, Nathaniel considers not answering. He doesn’t owe Andrew an explanation, and he certainly doesn’t _want_ to give one. He doesn’t want to give Andrew the knowledge that Nathaniel has nightmares, panic attacks, that he wakes up and feels water rushing down his throat, that he wakes up and hears his mother’s screams, that he wakes up and feels the weight of a car on his chest. Riko knows, and Riko used it against him. He isn’t about to give Andrew that ammunition.

So he settles for an evasive truth. “Ravens sleep in the court. They have rooms built in and they call it the Nest. I’m not used to sleeping anywhere else.” Despite the fact that Nathaniel is positive Kevin never once ran to the court in the middle of the night, Andrew doesn’t call Nathaniel out on the partial lie.

By the time the three of them make it to the gym, the rest of the team is already working out. Kevin moves towards an open bench press, and Andrew gives Nathaniel a two finger salute to his temple before turning away.

“Do I want to know?” Wymack asks, and when Nathaniel turns to him, he catches the coach’s eyes lying heavy on Nathaniel’s bloody shirt. “No, I don’t, never mind. I’m going to call Abby.” Wymack looks ten years older when he points to a chair and tells Nathaniel to sit and not move if he knows what’s good for him.

Understanding and respecting the order, Nathaniel sits on the metal foldout chair, trying not to wince at the remaining pain. He tips his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and just listening to the sound of the weight room. He wants to be doing that; his muscles burn pleasantly with the memory of taking out his stress and frustration on the treadmill. “Hey coach,” Nathaniel says, just loud enough for the man to hear him and look over. Nathaniel tosses him the keys to the court, and Wymack just barely catches them as he pockets his phone. Nathaniel’s face is blank at the curious look Wymack gives him. “I told you. I’m not a thief.”

“We had one of those a couple years ago,” Abby says as she walks in. Apparently she hadn’t been far away. She confirms as much when Nathaniel narrows his eyes at her. “I was going to bring you this,” she says, gesturing at the laptop in her hands. “Good thing I keep a first aid kit in my car.” She smiles, but Nathaniel doesn’t return it.

By this point, the entirety of the Foxes are paying attention, though it’s evident that they’re trying not to make it obvious. Except for Seth, who is staring at Nathaniel openly. Nathaniel turns to glare at Seth, who just raises his eyebrows and hands in mock fear.

“Nathaniel,” Abby says, getting his attention again. “There’s an office down the hall that I can patch you up in.”

“Why? Just do it here.” Nathaniel arches a brow at her. He doesn’t need privacy. He doesn’t care if the misfits in the room see his scars. He’s never been allowed to hide them before.

“Oh, well, I just thought…”

Kevin, of all people, comes to her rescue. “Ravens don’t get to be alone,” he explains, keeping his good hand held in the air as the spot for Andrew to lift the bar to. Nathaniel takes the moment to reassess Andrew’s strength, noting the two hundred pounds on the bar and the near ease with which Andrew is lifting it. Nathaniel isn’t afraid of him, but Andrew rises a bit on Nathaniel’s list of people to keep an eye on. Kevin continues, “We – they – are paired up immediately. They sleep together, eat together, go to classes together… everything. And the team is always nearby. Privacy isn’t a thing that they worry about.”

“Nathaniel isn’t a Raven anymore,” Dan says from her spot on a treadmill.

“Aren’t I?” Nathaniel challenges, and he smirks when he sees Dan’s smile slip. “Don’t think you know who I am, Danielle.”

Abby finally seems to find herself again. “Alright, we can do it in here. I’m sure you only pulled a couple anyway.”

Wordlessly, Nathaniel stands up and pulls his shirt over his head. Andrew, Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin don’t react, because they’ve already seen how battered Nathaniel’s body is. The rest of the team reacts in various degrees. Raphael swears colorfully, Allison bites her lip and looks away, Jacob almost drops a barbell on his foot, Seth gives a smile that is all predator. Nathaniel zeroes in on that look, quickly looks Seth up and down, then dismisses him, just because he knows it’ll piss Seth off.

After only a small amount of hesitation, Abby comes forward, taking the bandages off of the bleeding wounds and moving to start stitching him up again. Nathaniel stands still, staring at the Foxes who are making sympathetic faces at him. Wymack yells at all of them to get back to work, Kevin backs up the decision, and they all, reluctantly, obey.

“They seem pretty tame in here, don’t they?” Abby comments, putting a new bandage over one of the wounds. Nathaniel doesn’t comment, so Abby continues. “Wait ‘til tonight’s practice. They’ve sorted out their pecking order, but they still don’t get along.”

“I know,” Nathaniel says, eyes sweeping the athletes in the room. “That’s why you’re ranked last.”


	6. Chapter 6

The divide on the court is glaringly obvious, even from the sidelines where Nathaniel is only occasionally watching as he does his online lessons and homework. Andrew and his monsters are one group, Dan, Allison, Renee, and Matt are another, the three fifth years another, and Seth is playing antagonist to all of them. Nathaniel can’t hear what everyone’s shouting, but it’s evident that Allison and Seth are on the outs despite being very close yesterday, because they’re doing the most fighting.

“Jesus Christ,” Wymack mutters. He’s standing close enough that Nathaniel can hear him but far enough away that Nathaniel doesn’t feel crowded.

Kevin bangs his fist on the wall and shouts something at Andrew. There’s no way the goalkeeper could have heard him, but Andrew flips Kevin off anyway. Andrew hasn’t raised his racquet since practice started.

“They’re not going to get better,” Nathaniel says, finishing of his concluding paragraph to his essay on the Constitution and hitting submit without proofreading. “The seniors and Dan’s group would probably mesh pretty well if it wasn’t for the gross divide of years and experience. Jacob wants to be captain, so there’s that, too. Andrew’s group wouldn’t be so tense if they weren’t being antagonized. You’d have a better team if you got rid of the weak link.”

“Seth’s an asshole, but he’s a good striker,” Wymack says, glancing at Nathaniel for a moment before writing something down on his clipboard. The fact that Wymack knows exactly who Nathaniel is talking about, however, says a significant amount on the coach’s opinion of his number six player.

“Seth’s a mediocre striker at best. Kevin has a broken hand and he could outplay Seth any day.”

“What’s your point, kid?”

Nathaniel’s lip curls at the casual way Wymack tossed the word _kid_ at him. “Nothing,” he nearly snarls, moving his attention back to the laptop balancing on his thighs. “It’s not my business. I’m not going to be here in another two months anyway.”

“Planning a vacation already? January’s a shitty month for it,” Wymack comments before whistling at Kevin and pointing down to the away side of the court, where James and Seth are head to head.

“I’ll be eighteen by mid-January. You won’t be able to keep me here and you won’t have to call the police.”

Wymack freezes for a long moment, and Nathaniel knows the coach is staring at him, though Nathaniel can only see the man from the corner of his eye. “You won’t be able to hide from them anywhere,” Wymack finally says.

“I know,” Nathaniel answers, letting go of a small sigh as he closes the laptop and sets it aside. He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees and his head drooping down. He’s already tired, tired of running, of not having a place to call his own. He’s tired of having a target on his back, first by the other Ravens who were jealous of him, and now by Riko and Tetsuji themselves. And as much as he has no love for the coach beside him or the players on the court, he doesn’t need that target getting put on the people around him. “But anywhere is better than here.”

“My couch is that bad, huh?”

Nathaniel bares his teeth when he lifts his head and smiles. It’s a non-answer, but Wymack seems to understand enough to turn away. Shaking his head, the coach walks up to the Plexiglas and pounds on it before opening the door. Practice stops, and with a whistle and an angry shout, the players walk off the court, all of them looking equally steamed. After sliding the laptop into it’s protective case, Nathaniel makes his way down the stairs of the stands and walks into the lounge with Wymack. Unlike with the Ravens, there always seems to be a group meeting after each Fox practice. Nathaniel wonders how long it will be before he gets bored of them and decides to walk back to Wymack’s instead of sitting through them.

Instead of standing beside Wymack at the front of the room, Nathaniel places himself closer to the door, leaning against the wall, so that he can be the first to leave. Wymack looks his way but doesn’t say anything as the players start filtering in through the door.

Apparently the couch that Andrew and his group took over yesterday has been claimed as theirs, because even though they aren’t the first into the room, the others avoid it. Andrew gives Nathaniel a mock salute when he passes him and heads for his spot in the corner, Kevin right behind him and taking up his spot just to the right of Andrew. Again Nathaniel is shocked at how easily cowed Kevin is now that he’s away from the Ravens. Then again, maybe he was always like this. Maybe he just never let it show.

“Hey, Nathaniel.” Seth’s sneering voice draws Nathaniel’s attention, and he turns to find the striker standing in front of him. Seth isn’t enough of a threat to make Nathaniel tense up, but the fighting stance that Seth is in lends a weary feeling to Nathaniel’s gut. Something bad is about to happen.

“Leave him alone, Gordon,” Jacob says as he passes them, heading for the couch.

“Nah, it’s fine, we’re cool, aren’t we, Nathaniel?” Seth’s grin is loose enough to be sloppy but sharp enough to be a shark. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel sees that they’ve caught Andrew’s attention, which can’t be good, since Andrew doesn’t seem to care about much of anything, at least not enough to give his full attention. “I just had a question for him. Nathaniel’s just such a long name, so I’m thinking of what we could call him instead.”

“Gordon you have five seconds to sit your ass down or you’re doing laps all day tomorrow,” Wymack warns.

Seth doesn’t listen, holding eye contact with Nathaniel. “Jail bait, maybe,” Seth muses, and Nathaniel refuses to step into the trap being set for him. “You seem like you’d bend over for anyone.”

“Seth, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Allison demands.

In his peripheral vision, Nathaniel sees Andrew stir, watches Kevin grab the goalkeeper’s arm to hold him in place.

“No? None of you have any imagination. Suppose we could always just call him Nathan, the-”

In less than two seconds, Nathaniel has Seth pinned to the wall by the throat, and the tip of the knife that’s suddenly in Nathaniel’s hand is already buried in Seth’s abdomen. The pained noise Seth makes is almost lost by the tight grip Nathaniel has on his neck.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

“Get him off of him!”

“Is that a fucking knife?”

Everyone is suddenly shouting at once, and audible above all of that is mad laughter that could be coming from no one but Andrew.

Someone moves towards him, and Nathaniel snarls, without taking his eyes from Seth’s reddening face, “You come any closer and I’ll gut him right here.”

The room freezes, goes deathly quiet except for Andrew’s cackling.

Nathaniel leans closer to the striker, tightens his hand around Seth’s throat and twists the knife just enough to cause a spike of pain. “Now you listen to me, and you listen very closely,” he says, voice soft and smooth and quiet. “This is your only warning, and next time I won’t hesitate to cut you from groin to throat. Don’t you ever, ever call me anything but Nathaniel again. I am not a pet. I am not a toy. And I am _definitely_ not a Nathan. Do you understand me?” He pushes the knife in further when Seth’s eyes flash with resentment and challenge. “I said, _do you understand me_?”

Through obvious effort, Seth nods once, and Nathaniel lets him go and steps away. He watches in disgust as Seth drops to the floor, coughing and wheezing and clutching his throat. Nathaniel wipes the blood from his knife onto his shirt before tucking it away out of sight.

He turns to look at Wymack, ignoring the stares of the others, ignoring Andrew’s insane laughter. “Keys,” Nathaniel says, and after a moment, Wymack tosses Nathaniel the keys to his apartment. Nathaniel moves to the door, but he stops just on the threshold, looking back over his shoulder at Wymack, who is still staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Don’t forget that I warned you. Better to cut off the infection before it spreads.” He leaves with that hanging in the air, and he doesn’t stop walking until he’s in Wymack’s apartment and has found a bottle of whiskey in a glass cabinet. Nathaniel sits down on the couch to drink.

It doesn’t even take a half hour before Wymack’s back, and there’s a storm behind his eyes and a blank mask over his features, but he’s alone.

“Thought for sure you were going to call the cops,” Nathaniel says, taking another drink of the whiskey as he watches Wymack step further into the room.

“If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be waiting here right now,” Wymack says, and Nathaniel doesn’t disagree with him. “The next time you’re going to cut up one of my players, you should let me know beforehand.”

Nathaniel flashes a grin that’s all teeth and sets the bottle down. “He’s fine. One stitch and he’ll be good to go. You won’t have to bench him or anything.” Nathaniel shakes his head, his grin slipping and a heavy sigh escaping him.

“Why don’t you like that name?”

“Personal reasons.”

“Nathaniel –”

“David,” Nathaniel quips, his face hard, his body ready to defend himself. “Drop it.”

For a moment, Wymack looks like he’s going to fight Nathaniel on the subject, but he wisely lets it go. “Kevin talked to me after the meeting,” the man admits, taking the whiskey from Nathaniel’s loose fingers and dropping into the armchair. “He suggested that you might do better living in the dorms with them. Andrew wouldn’t take you, and all the beds in their room are full anyway –”

“I wouldn’t have slept in the same room as Kevin,” Nathaniel interrupts, taking the bottle back from Wymack for a quick mouthful before returning it.

“Whatever. If I talk to the directors tomorrow, I might be able to get you in with Matt and Jacob. I’ll toss Seth in with James and Raphael.”

“Seems like a lot of moving around. If a bed’s open with Brown and Cortez, it would be easier for me to stay with them.”

“Matt and Jacob are more approachable. I was trying to get them to tame Seth, but since that’s not working, maybe they can tame you.”

Nathaniel curls his lip. “I’ve been beaten too many times to be tamed, Wymack. The sooner you learn that, the better.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter with a really brief mention of rape

Nathaniel moves in to the dorms the next day, only after he gets his new phone and credit card in the mail. Wymack puts in the numbers for all of the Foxes and then drives him over to Fox Tower, the dorm where all of the athletes live.

“Third floor,” Wymack says, parking in front of the door and turning to look at Nathaniel. “Matt promised he’d leave the door open, but you’re going to be in 306. Seth’s moved rooms already so… try not to get into a fight with anyone else. I had a hard enough time convincing the directors as it was.”

Giving a small snort of bitter amusement, Nathaniel grabs his bags of clothes and gets out of the vehicle. “Sir, yes sir,” he mocks, slamming the door shut and marching into the building and up the stairs. He’d woken up in a terrible mood, and he hasn’t been able to shake it. He needs to run, to do something, _anything_. If he was still at Evermore, he would be practicing with the team despite his injuries, running drills with Jean at his side. But he’s not at Evermore, he’s at Palmetto. And he’s not running drills, he’s climbing three flights of stairs.

The last person Nathaniel expects to see on the stairs is Andrew, but the blond is standing on the third floor landing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed loosely over his stomach.

“What do you want?” Nathaniel asks, irritation evident in his tone.

Andrew’s responding smile is floppy and loose, a sharp contradiction to the steel behind his eyes. “I just wanted to say hello,” Andrew says lightly before pushing up into Nathaniel’s space, crowding him against the wall. “I heard Abby and Wymack talking about a blood test earlier. I hope it’s not contagious.”

Nathaniel clenches his jaw, working the muscle while he glares down at Andrew. “What’s it to you?” He tries not to panic about the test now that it’s been brought up. If he ends up being positive for anything, his Exy career will be over before it even has the chance to begin. All those years practicing, fighting and clawing his way to the top of Riko’s list would be worth nothing.

“Oh, just protecting what’s mine. I know from Kevin that Riko doesn’t rape people, so I’m just sitting here wondering why you would be concerned about having an STI.” Andrew’s voice is sugar sweet, but Nathaniel can hear the venom dripping.

“Riko doesn’t rape people,” Nathaniel confirms, meeting Andrew’s eyes in a steady gaze that’s just soft enough to not be a glare. “But he doesn’t have qualms about _having_ people raped.” With that, Nathaniel pushes past Andrew, knocking their shoulders together on the way by. “Kevin shouldn’t be your only source of information,” he says as he walks away. “He was Riko’s second and a member of the family. He didn’t have a lot of hell to go through.”

There’s silence from Andrew for only a second before he laughs and shouts after Nathaniel, “She said you were clean, by the way.”

Relief rushes through Nathaniel’s body, and he can feel the resulting shiver start at the base of his skull and work down to the end of his spine. He doesn’t turn around to face Andrew, not wanting to give him that satisfaction.

“Nathaniel is that –” Jacob sticks his head out of the open door and stops talking when he sees Nathaniel. “You look like you woke up with a rattle snake in your hair.”

“Close enough,” Nathaniel mutters, pushing past Jacob into the dorm room. It looks more like an apartment than a dorm. From the entryway it looks almost exactly like Wymack’s apartment. Straight ahead is the living room, where there’s a sofa and an armchair set up facing a TV. A PlayStation is hooked up to the flat screen, the controllers on the floor in front. To the right is the kitchenette, with a half-wall set up to section it off from the living room and provide more space for counters and cabinets. A short hallway to the left leads to an open office-like room where three desks are shoved up against the walls, two of them covered with books and paper. Nathaniel takes another few steps into the room and he can see the bathroom that dead ends the hallway and the bedroom on the right.

Matt’s voice carries from the bedroom. “Jacob, did you take my green pillowcase?”

“Why the fuck would I take your green pillowcase, Boyd?” Jacob asks, moving towards the bedroom and motioning Nathaniel to follow. “Did you ask Seth? Nathaniel’s here, by the way.”

Nathaniel stops on the threshold of the bedroom, taking in the quarters that he is to be sharing with the two men. The layout of the room is almost identical to his old room at Evermore, but the walls aren’t painted black and red, and there are three beds, not two. The lower bunk across the room is the only one free of sheets, so Nathaniel assumes that one’s his.

“Hey, Nathaniel,” Matt greets without looking up from where he’s digging around in one of the three short dressers.

Without responding, Nathaniel steps into the room, dropping his bags of clothing onto the bed before turning around and heading back towards the main door.

“Where are you going?” Jacob asks, walking after him.

“Shopping.” He needs sheets, for one thing. And a new laptop would be nice, since his old one is at Evermore, probably thrown in the trash by now.

Jacob snorts, leaning his broad shoulder against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. “Look, no offense, but you’re still in high school. How much money can you have? Let Matt tag along, at least. His dad’s loaded.”

“Stop selling my body without permission, Carter!” Matt shouts from the bedroom, but otherwise doesn’t emerge.

Nathaniel stares blankly at Jacob. “I have almost two hundred sixty-five thousand dollars sitting in an offshore bank account. I think I’m alright, thanks.” He sweeps his eyes around the dorm room. “Do I get a set of keys or…?”

Someone clears their throat from behind him, and Nathaniel turns to see Nicky smiling and leaning against the door frame. “Hey, yeah, sorry. Andrew stole these.” Nicky tosses two keys to Nathaniel, who catches them easily and continues to stare at Nicky, waiting for an explanation. Nicky holds up his hands innocently. “Don’t give me that look; I don’t know why he does half the things he does.”

“Why’d he send you over?” Nathaniel asks, tucking the keys into his pocket.

“Nicky what are you doing here?” Matt calls from the bedroom. “I can’t play right now – need to find my vanishing green pillowcase.”

Nicky arches an eyebrow, looking over Nathaniel’s shoulder to Jacob. Nathaniel doesn’t turn to follow Nicky’s gaze, but apparently Nicky finds Jacob’s answer satisfying because he looks back at Nathaniel. “He wanted me to tell you that he’s extending an invite for you to come with us. And by invite I mean that he’s not giving you a choice.”

“Oh?” Nathaniel isn’t impressed or scared, if that was what Andrew was trying to go for. “And where are we going?”

As if expecting the question and not wanting to tell, Nicky shifts his weight from one foot to the other and glances towards the hall, and assumingly the bedroom beyond. “It’s just going to be a short little overnight trip to Columbia.”

“ _What_?” From the bedroom, there’s a loud bang, and then Matt’s quick footfalls approach down the hall. Nathaniel turns and watches the backliner as he appears at last, green pillowcase nowhere in sight, but a stony look on his face. Nathaniel thinks he’s the only one who can see the fear in Matt’s eyes. “No. Your fucking monster of a cousin is not allowed to take Nathaniel to Columbia.”

Nicky has the decency to flinch. “Nothing bad is going to happen,” Nicky assures, though Nathaniel can here the tremor in his voice, making it evident that even Nicky doesn’t believe what he’s saying.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Matt says, and it’s as close to a snarl as Nathaniel has yet to hear him. “I’m still talking to Bee, and it’s been _months_.”

Nathaniel’s eyes narrow in interest, and he turns around to find Jacob, who has yet to speak. Jacob lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Andrew took Matt to Columbia at the beginning of the year. Whatever happened go Matt clean, but he’s been going to see Bee, our psychologist, since it happened. He was more or less a walking coma patient for the first month.”

Suddenly understanding why Andrew cornered him on the stairs, Nathaniel flicks his eyes back to Matt and lets his gaze settle on the crooks of Matt’s arms. Feeling his gaze, Matt lifts his long sleeves to expose the scarred track marks. “Don’t fucking go, Nathaniel. Put your foot down. Andrew’s a psychopathic monster, and he doesn’t give a shit about collateral damage.”

“I’ll go,” Nathaniel says without thinking about it further.

“You’ll _what_?”

“Great!” Nicky exclaims, his voice just loud enough to carry over Matt’s incredulous accusation. Nicky’s smile is wide, and his eyes light up, but Nathaniel can see the cracks. Faking it is something Nathaniel knows very well. “He, um…” Nicky bends down, reaching to the floor on the hallway side of the door. “Andrew said to give you this.”

Nathaniel looks at the bag of clothes for a second before his eyes move back up to Nicky’s tan face. “I just spent five hundred dollars on clothes yesterday, Nicky. I don’t need any more.”

Nicky bites his lip, stepping inside the room with the bag still held out. “Please? He doesn’t buy anyone presents like ever. But if not for him, do it for me? They’ll look good on you, I promise.” Nicky’s gaze sweeps over Nathaniel from head to foot, snagging only once on the visible ring of bruises around his neck, but otherwise taking in every place where muscle shows through Nathaniel’s clothes – shoulders, biceps, thighs.

He doesn’t say anything further, but Nathaniel takes the clothes, if only to get Nicky to stop looking at him like that. Indeed, as soon as the bag is in Nathaniel’s hands, Nicky claps excitedly and spins from the room. “We leave at nine tomorrow night,” Nicky calls, and then he’s gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Since the Foxes are a terrible team and the laughing stock of NCAA Class I Exy, they didn’t advance past the first semester. They only won three games, and even then by minuscule margins. But though their season is over, they’re not done playing. Scrimmages are offered against other teams that didn’t make it into playoffs in order to keep the teams focused and in their best shape. It’s the only collage sport with a season that lasts the whole school year, and none of the losing teams are ever ready to give it up so quickly. So Friday evening, despite being out for the season, the Foxes file into the Foxhole Court for a scrimmage against the Jackals.

Scrimmages are treated more like high school games, where the rules are a little more strict and no one tries quite as hard, and the announcer is usually a student who has a tendency to swear too much and has an obvious bias for the home team. Nathaniel never played high school Exy, but he watched some. That was his first introduction to the real sport at eight years old. Prior to that, he’d played for a little leagues team, but as soon as he was sold to the Moriyamas, they gave him a week of watching high school Exy to learn the foundation, and then he was thrown onto the court with Kevin and Riko and, later, Jean.

Wymack claps his hands to get his team’s attention. They’re all sitting in the lounge, Nathaniel standing off to the side. He’s been trying to catch Andrew’s eye, if only to stare him down, but the tiny goalkeeper has been effectively ignoring Nathaniel. “Listen up, assholes,” Wymack says affectionately. “Starting line is Jacob, Raphael, Dan, Matt, Aaron, and Andrew. If any one of you gets a red card, I will sign you up for the next marathon. I still have the forms in my office. Two o’clock tomorrow. Don’t think I won’t do it. Anyone have any questions?”

Andrew lifts his chin with a short jerk. “What did you bring me this time?”

That’s an interesting enough question to get Nathaniel’s attention, but it’s beyond him what Andrew is talking about.

Wymack narrows his eyes. “It’s a surprise. Now get out of here, all of you. Take them on their laps, Dan.”

Nathaniel watches as the orange-and-white-clad players leave the lounge led by Dan. He watches the way Andrew avoids looking at him. He watches the uneasy glance Matt gives him. He watches the jealous way Jacob looks at Dan. Mostly, though, he watches Seth purposefully walk too close to him and say, “Don’t think this is over.”

It would have been too easy for it to have ended yesterday.

When the room is empty but for Nathaniel and Wymack, Nathaniel says, “Forewarning you that I’m going to cut up one of your players. Again.”

Wymack sighs and deigns not to answer as he follows the team out of the lounge. After a moment, Nathaniel goes as well.

The stands are nearly empty, which doesn’t surprise Nathaniel at all. Not only are the Foxes a disappointing team to watch, but it’s not even a real game. The outcome doesn’t matter to anyone or anything, and there’s no point showing up to a game that would have a final verdict that could be predicted by anyone. The score doesn’t matter, only the end result. The Foxes would lose. So Nathaniel pulls out the laptop he bought for himself yesterday and starts in on homework while the team warms up. He’s perched on the bench, but even when their laps are done and the players have returned for a quick drink and some more stretching, no one comments on his choice of seat. It’s only been three days – well, closer to four by now – since Nathaniel’s unceremonious arrival, but the team seems to have already accepted him as a permanent resident, a constant dark shadow taking up space in their court and their lives.

Nathaniel had once more awoken in the middle of drowning last night, in the middle of suffocating, in the middle of being shoved into the dark with whispered words of _this will make it go away_. It only ever made it worse. Above him, Jacob had shifted quickly enough on his bunk that Nathaniel knew he was awake, but neither of them said anything about it then or now.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep afterwards. At the Nest, Nathaniel found ways to occupy his mind when he woke up in the middle of the night, he found ways to make himself exhausted once more. But here Nathaniel doesn’t have free range of the court, and he certainly doesn’t have Jean to keep him and his destructive thoughts company.

_Jean._

What part had Jean played in all of this? Nathaniel didn’t want to believe that Jean had betrayed him – he was actually very sure that the native-born Frenchman had _not_ – but he wouldn’t put it past Jean to have had a hand in it somehow. Not by choice, but out of fear. Nathaniel had been a pet to the Moriyamas, to Riko, just as Jean still is. But Nathaniel was the son – and only heir – of a family “friend,” and thus got treated less like a mangy mutt and more like a breeding bitch: something displeasing and unwanted, but necessary. Jean was disposable, Nathaniel was… he just was.

The announcer calls the names of each of the players, and then says Wymack’s name and Kevin’s, listing them as coach and assistant coach. Then the announcer starts over with the Jackals. Though Nathaniel knows exactly how this game is going to play out, he puts his laptop aside and braces his elbows on his knees to watch.

Jackals get first pitch, and everything goes downhill from there. The Jackal dealer throws the ball down the court, and the strikers are waiting for it.

“Sloppy,” Nathaniel says, judgment heavy on his tongue.

“Who?” Renee asks from beside Nathaniel, though her eyes stay firmly on the game. Kevin is pacing off to the right with a starved look in his eyes, as if not being able to play is a worse agony than watching his new team fail so miserably. Nathaniel can sympathize. “The Jackals or us?”

Nathaniel makes a face when Andrew doesn’t even try to block the shot on the goal. “Both. The Jackals could have had that goal faster if the dealer had served to their goalkeeper. Your defense should have easily been able to shut this play down. And I’m not even going to get started on Andrew.”

“It’s easy to judge in hindsight,” Renee says, flicking a glance over to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel snorts. “This isn’t hindsight,” he says, flicking a hand towards the game. The Jackals have the ball again. “Seventeen is going to pass short to twenty-three. Aaron is going to try to block him, so twenty-three is going to pivot on his left. Matt is going to try what I assume to be his damnedest, but he’s not good enough to stop a surprise whip. Twenty-three, still in possession of the ball, is going to whip it to seventeen, who is going to duck around Matt’s left side because Matt is going to be diving to the right for the pass that he just missed three seconds ago. They’re going to score because Andrew doesn’t give a shit. And this whole time, the Jackals wasted precious seconds not realizing that Andrew isn’t trying, or else twenty-three could have scored as soon as Aaron was up in his face.”

Everything plays out as Nathaniel suggests it will. He can feel Renee’s stare on him, the same as Wymack’s. But Nathaniel doesn’t care. All he cares about is the game, and both of these teams are insults to the sport. But Nathaniel can’t do anything about it, and he doesn’t want to help these misfits and cast outs anyway.

After a successful but unintentional block, Matt and Aaron bump fists, and with the next buzzer Nathaniel’s thoughts turn once again to Jean, who never smiles on the court, not even if he blocks an impossible shot. Jean who always sees ways he messed up or places he could improve. And of course, Riko is always there to reinforce those ideas. Jean smiled sometimes, though. Nathaniel caught him at it twice. Once, when Nathaniel mocked Riko behind his back – Jean laughed and they both got punished for it. Another time when Nathaniel talked Jean through his favorite memory, his last Christmas with his mother.

Nathaniel can easily see himself and Jean taking up defensive stances on the court, the image superimposed over the game currently taking place. Kevin and Riko are facing them, and there’s no goalkeeper because there doesn’t need to be. Riko and Kevin will have to fight for it, but eventually they’ll break through Nathaniel and Jean – they always do.

Jean starts with the ball, throwing it about to half court so that the strikers have to run for it. Nathaniel bends down and braces, and Jean mirrors the stance. In their gear they are identical except for the height difference. Jean gave him shit about being so short until Nathaniel outran him at every practice and every scrimmage they played against their team.

Riko, with the ball in his net, runs at Jean. It’s a fine balance, playing defense against Riko, and it’s something Nathaniel has only ever had to endure once. If you don’t do your job well enough, you’re punished for it. But if you do your job too well, if you don’t let Riko score at all, you’re punished for it. There can only be one number one, and it has to be Riko.

In his black and red gear, Kevin runs to Nathaniel, waiting for an opening while the Foxes goal lights up red behind Andrew. Nathaniel snarls at Kevin, pushing him back, back, back, not allowing him an opening to receive a pass. Riko has used up his steps and is waiting for Jean to fuck up or for Kevin to get open. Nathaniel gives a good natured laugh when Kevin tries to pivot past him and Nathaniel blocks him. “Move faster, Day,” Nathaniel says, hardly breathless despite the moves he’s been having to make against Kevin.

And then it happens. Riko, having decided that Kevin is out of the play already, waits for Jean to inevitably mess up, and then Riko passes to himself and spins off around Jean. Nathaniel breaks from Kevin before he can think about it. He can’t stand the hollowed look on Jean’s face, he can’t stand that wide-eyed fear that’s barely masked by the glazed look that comes from making this mistake more than once. Nathaniel runs at Riko, and just as the striker takes the shot, Nathaniel steals the ball and hurtles it down the court. He stands there, breathless now because of fear, because he knows that he didn’t take Jean’s punishment away, but now, at least, Jean won’t have to suffer alone. Riko raises his racquet in a threatening way behind Nathaniel. Kevin looks away. Jean meets Nathaniel’s gaze because they suffer together, thrive together, live together. They don’t abandon each other in moments of pain.

Jean doesn’t even flinch when the racquet comes down on Nathaniel’s shoulder.

“Nathaniel?” The Jackals’ goal has just lit up red, and Nathaniel doesn’t realize he’s on his feet, breathing heavy, until his name is spoken. Renee is looking at Nathaniel with curiosity; on the other side of Renee, Nicky looks on with concern.

“I’m fine,” Nathaniel says through clenched teeth and rapid breaths. He looks around the court, wide-eyed, positive that he can feel Riko’s eyes on him.

“Whoa, whoa, kid, take a brea-” Wymack’s sentence is only half out, and then Nathaniel is running.

No one tries to stop him as he pushes into the lounge, skids and twists through the hallways and bursts from the stadium, already at a dead sprint and not ready to stop anytime soon. He can’t get enough air in his lungs to be running so fast, but he doesn’t care about that right now, doesn’t care about anything, because if he cares, he’s going to care too much. He runs to the dorms because that’s the only thing he has right now. A space that’s his, clothes that are his, a room that smells nothing at all like the Nest. He goes too fast up the stairs and trips, landing hard on his knees and cursing colorfully. His palm slams into the step above his face as he pushes to his feet and starts running again. He shoves past a football player on the stairs and barrels down the third floor hallway to the room he shares with Matt and Jacob.

Fingers fumbling with the keys, Nathaniel struggles for a long moment getting the door open, and his heart stops and restarts twice before he finally gets the lock undone and barrels into the room. It’s dark except for the light from the window, and Nathaniel leaves it that way. He draws the blinds in the bedroom to make the dark nearly perfect, and then finds a tight corner to slip into. He can’t find enough breath as he pushes himself into the small space, but he tucks his knees to his chest and pulls up the hood of his sweatshirt. He slams his fist into the wall beside him, again and again in the rhythm he wants his heart to go, in the rhythm Jean would have pounded his back to make him start breathing.

Nathaniel chokes on a dry sob and breaks, wrapping his arms around his knees and gripping his hair with his fists. His body wracks with tears he won’t let fall, his shoulders shake from being pinched so tightly together in the small space. It doesn’t take long for the fear to choke him, to become the primary source of his panic, and he pushes roughly from the corner, twisting in the middle of the room to stare back at the spot he had just left.

His lungs are raw, his throat hurts, but the panic from the memory is fading with the panic of the cramped space. Jean’s idea. Fight or flight kicks in with fear. _Make yourself scared, and then save yourself, and the panic will go away_.

_Breathe, Nathaniel._

“Fuck you,” he whispers, and doesn’t mean it. Roughly, he wipes his cheeks to make sure they’re dry, and then he makes his way into the kitchenette to look for any alcohol that might be stashed away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some more horrible stuff in here about Nathaniel's past. Though nothing is said outright here, it's pretty obvious what he's thinking about.

Jacob and Matt return to the dorm around eight thirty, looking tired from the game but also exhilarated from the adrenaline. There’s disappointment in Jacob’s eyes. Nathaniel doesn’t ask how the game went, and neither Matt nor Jacob ask what happened to Nathaniel to make him run. All Matt asks is, “Are you okay?” and all Nathaniel says is, “No,” and the conversation ends there.

No, he’s not okay. He’s far from okay, and he can admit that after dumping a shot of vodka into a mug of coffee. He can admit that after writing out a text to Jean and forcing himself to delete every letter. Nathaniel is pissed off and strung out, and he forgets about his promised trip to Columbia until Nicky knocks and leans his head into the suite.

“Hey, Nathaniel!” Nicky’s voice is bright and happy, and he also doesn’t ask questions about what sent Nathaniel running from the court. When no one tells him to leave, Nicky steps into the room. He’s already dressed for the night in tight black jeans and a ripped black shirt pulled over a rainbow tank top. “Are you…” Nicky falters when he sees that Nathaniel is still dressed in his black hoodie and blue jeans. “You’re still coming, right?”

Nathaniel taps his thumb against the rim of his coffee mug. Whether he goes or not, he’s going to be awake most of the night anyway. He sighs, but he gets to his feet. “Yeah, I am. Just let me get dressed.” He has a sinking feeling that he knows where they’re going and that he’s not going to like it, but being anywhere is better than sitting here on his own, staring down at an empty mug and trying to reason with himself why he can’t contact Jean.

“We’ll wait for you outside our room,” Nicky says, and then leaves.

As soon as the door is closed, Matt starts, “You don’t have to –”

“I know,” Nathaniel snaps, rinsing out his mug before putting it in the dishwasher. “I know I don’t have to go, but I’m going.”

Jacob makes a noise from his seat on the sofa and glances up from his book as Nathaniel walks by. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give us a call.”

Nathaniel doesn’t know what to do with the kindness being thrown at him except to doubt it. He doesn’t know how to say thank you and mean it. None of the Ravens got along with him, and he didn’t really want them to, anyway. Jean was as close to kind as Nathaniel had ever gotten with anyone, but Nathaniel was never sure if that was friendship or necessity. Nathaniel thought of Jean as a friend, as a brother, but they never discussed it. There’s a chance it didn’t go both ways. So with no words to give to Jacob, Nathaniel goes to their room and digs out the bag Nicky gave him yesterday.

_“He doesn’t buy anyone presents like ever.”_

This isn’t a present, it’s a dare, even if he doesn’t know what the dare is yet.

The pants, when Nathaniel pulls them on, are skin tight and so black they seem to absorb the light that hits them. They rest low on his hips, and Nathaniel stares at the waistband for a long time in the mirror before pulling on the scraps of shirt Andrew picked out for him. Nathaniel’s shirt is black with rips in it, like Nicky’s, but the similarities to Nicky’s top ends there. The rips on Nicky’s shirt were horizontal with a lot of fabric in between. The rips on Nathaniel’s shirt are vertical with barely any fabric between each tear. And of course, Nathaniel doesn’t have anything beneath the shirt.

He takes another moment staring at himself in the mirror – his eyes again catching on the waistband of the low jeans, which is still perfectly visible because the shirt doesn’t fall that far – before he finds that there is not just one dare in the outfit, but two.

All of his bandages are visible under the shirt, stark white beneath the black. If they’re going to a club, which Nathaniel can only assume, based on this outfit and Nicky’s, the white is going to stand out like a neon sign in the dead of night. And if the bandages can be seen, then a knife would be very visible as well. Nathaniel bares his teeth at his reflection and yanks off each and every bandage, exposing the stitches and the healing wounds beneath. He shudders at the cool air that brushes the sensitive skin, and he takes the moment to clench his fists and get a grip on himself. Then he walks from the room, perfectly collected, and stops only to throw away his bandages and slip his phone in one pocket and his credit card and keys in the other.

“I’ll be back,” Nathaniel tosses over his shoulder to Matt and Jacob before exiting the suite.

Andrew, Kevin, Aaron, and Nicky are all waiting for Nathaniel in the hallway. Everyone is wearing black, and only Nicky shares a ripped shirt with Nathaniel. Andrew’s gaze sweeps up and down Nathaniel, snagging on the longest, most lethal cut on his abdomen, before he grins. Kevin notices the exposed wounds as well and grimaces, but he doesn’t say anything about it, probably because this is Andrew’s idea.

Even Aaron has a look in his eye that tells Nathaniel he’s still remembering helping Abby stitch Nathaniel up.

Only Nicky can’t seem to see the marred skin, though he’s definitely looking at everything else.

“Holy shit… Christ I knew you would look good, but I never thought… _fuck_.” Nicky looks like he’s about to start drooling, so Nathaniel stops a few feet away from him. “Which way do you swing, Nathaniel? Please, please tell me you swing for my team.”

“Jesus Christ, Nicky. Can you not with the gay shit for just one night?” Aaron demands, shooting a glare at his cousin from the corner of his eye. “Besides, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Nicky waves his hand dismissively. “I’m sure I can convince Erik to share me with Nathaniel. I mean, _come on_.”

“Nicky, he’s underage for Christ’s sake,” Aaron says.

“I don’t swing,” Nathaniel says before the conversation can get any worse. Nicky opens his mouth in what looks like a protest, so Nathaniel adds, “At all.” His voice is harsh and forceful enough that Nicky closes his mouth and drops his eyes.

Nicky perks up in a second, though. “Just wait until you see the club, Nathaniel. Holy. Shit. It’s like a dream come true.”

Nathaniel doubts it, but he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to see Nicky so hurt again. Nathaniel has endured enough pain to not want to be the cause of it unless he’s defending himself.

“Let’s go,” Andrew says, turning around and walking away. Everyone follows behind, though Nathaniel hangs back a bit. Andrew leads them all to a sleek black car that Nathaniel knows is worth fifty thousand dollars or more. He tilts his head curiously when Andrew tosses the car keys to Nicky, who easily walks over to the driver’s door. Kevin slides into the passenger seat. “Get in,” Andrew tells Nathaniel, who is watching Aaron get into the backseat on the other side.

“Why am I in the middle?” Nathaniel asks, twisting to sweep a look over Andrew.

“Do you want to be thrown up on?” Andrew laughs, though it sounds a little strained. Nathaniel leans forward in the partial darkness, and he can see even from where he is that Andrew’s pupils are not dilated. Understanding where this night is more than likely going to go, Nathaniel turns and gets into the backseat, scooting over to put himself in the middle. Andrew gets in and slams his door, and Nicky smoothly pulls out of the parking lot.

By the time they hit the interstate, Andrew is asleep against the door, and Nicky is chattering away above the music on the radio. Nathaniel blanks out, wondering what the subtext was in regards to Andrew picking out an outfit that was so exposing. If Riko had dressed Nathaniel like this, then there would only be one way for the night to end. Nathaniel’s pulse skitters at that, but he tries to reason that Riko isn’t here. Obviously Andrew’s first intention had been to render Nathaniel weaponless, but Nathaniel couldn’t stop his mind from catching on Riko, on what Riko would have done, or more specifically, what Riko would have had someone else do.

Nathaniel tries to keep his breathing and his spinning thoughts under control, but he’s already nervous from being trapped in a car between two people, and now his memories are stuck on rewind.

“What the fuck?” Aaron says from Nathaniel’s left, and he can feel Aaron’s body shifting away.

“Nathaniel, are you okay?” Nicky asks, obviously worried.

_“Have fun with him. I don’t want to hear anything, though. You wake me up, you’re going to regret it.”_

An elbow slams into Nathaniel’s stomach as Andrew wakes up, and Nathaniel immediately doubles over in pain, wheezing in a breath that pulls a cough from his startled lungs. A heavy pressure settles on the back of his neck as Andrew shoves him down for balance and leans forward to look out of the windshield. “Pay attention, Nicky,” Andrew says, voice bored. “You’re going to miss your exit.” The car swerves and Nathaniel grits his teeth as his hip presses to Aaron’s for the moment before the car straightens out again. “Now pull over.”

“Andrew –”

“Now, Nicky,” Andrew snaps. The car stops so suddenly that Nathaniel has to shoot a hand out to brace against the center console so that his head doesn’t slam into it. Before the car is even at a full stop, Andrew’s door is open. Nathaniel sits up, breathing steady, just in time to hear Andrew retch and spit onto the side of the road. The car falls silent but for the music still seeping from the speakers. It takes a moment, but eventually Andrew pulls himself back into the car and closes the door.

Nicky starts driving away, and Nathaniel turns to Andrew. “Why did you hit me?” he asks, still able to perfectly feel where Andrew’s elbow collided with his gut. He would have a purple bruise by tomorrow morning if not by tonight.

Andrew blinks and turns to Nathaniel, who waits for the too-wide smile that he’s come to expect from Andrew. Instead, Andrew just turns away and looks back out the window. “Don’t wake me up if you don’t want me to hit you.”

“I didn’t wake you up,” Nathaniel says defensively.

“Didn’t you?” This time Nathaniel can hear the smile in Andrew’s voice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Taylor's fault. She's very impatient.
> 
> Also the word _rape_ shows up in this chapter again.

Sweetie’s is not at all what Nathaniel had been bracing himself for. It’s so tame – just a small brightly lit diner that serves food but specializes at pies and cakes and cookies and ice cream. While they’re waiting to be seated, Andrew walks over to the salad bar, which is mostly baren at this time of night, and grabs a few packets of crackers. He’s already nibbling on one by the time he regroups, and Nathaniel narrows his eyes at him.

They’re finally seated at a booth, Nathaniel shoved into the corner with Andrew on his right and Kevin just beyond that. Nicky is across from him, Aaron to Nicky’s left. Nicky smiles and nudges him under the table with his foot. “Cheer up. Sweetie’s isn’t a place for frowning.”

Nathaniel could argue that anyplace was a place for frowning, but instead he leans back and folds his arms over his waist, making sure not to hiss at the abrasive discomfort of digging his stitches into his arms. Beside him, Andrew laughs under his breath, just a small, deep sound that Nathaniel can feel against his side more than he can hear. “Oh, Nathaniel.”

A waitress stops by before Nathaniel can respond, but before the waitress can say anything, Nicky hands her back the menus that hadn’t even been looked at. “Just the ice cream special, please,” he says with a winning smile.

“I’ll be right back with those,” the waitress smiles and then disappears with the menus. She returns a short while later, passing out bowls of ice cream and leaving a pile of napkins in the center of the table. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She smiles and then lets them be.

Adjacent to Nathaniel, Andrew is starting to shake with withdrawal. Nathaniel doesn’t turn to look at him, instead opting to scoop up some ice cream and let it melt in his mouth. He makes a face and pushes the bowl away.

“What’s wrong, Nathaniel?” Andrew asks from beside him, voice just as sweet as the ice cream. “Not good enough for you?” There’s malice in his tone, but not on his face. Andrew looks sleepy at best, bored at worst.

“I don’t like sweets,” Nathaniel answers, reaching out to the napkin pile and digging out a packet from underneath. He pinches it between two fingers and gives it a shake. He doesn’t have to say anything, because he has everyone’s attention now. Kevin is staring pointedly down at his bowl of ice cream, which is untouched and already melting. Nathaniel drops the packet and cups his chin with his hand.

“Andrew,” Aaron says, something urgent in his voice.

Andrew waves him off, still holding Nathaniel’s gaze. “You’re just full of surprises.”

“Aren’t we all,” Nathaniel says, tone dry and bored, and he breaks eye contact with Andrew, occupying himself by stirring his ice cream.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel watches Andrew rip open the packet of yellow powder and tip it back into his mouth, clean and easy. Aaron sighs and scoops up the rest of the packets that are under the napkins and tucks them away on his person. Five minutes later, they’re leaving the diner and driving a short distance to a club.

Eden’s Twilight. Nathaniel can hear the bass from where he sits in the backseat of the car. Aaron gets out, and after a few minutes talking to the bouncers, he returns with a bright orange parking pass and hands it to Nicky. Nathaniel gets out with the rest of them, and Nicky drives the car off to look for a place to park. Andrew leads the way in, followed by Kevin. Aaron pushes Nathaniel ahead of him, and Nathaniel is desperately tempted to turn and hit him.

It takes them the better part of five minutes to find an empty table. Andrew grabs Nathaniel’s wrist and drags him away to the bar, leaving Aaron and Kevin behind at the table. Nathaniel jerks out of Andrew’s grip. “Don’t touch me,” he says over the music, the base through the floor making his muscles shake. Andrew laughs and lets go.

“Roland,” Andrew calls when they reach the bar, and the bartender stands up straight and smiles broadly down at Andrew. “Just the usual for us.”

“Who’s this?” Roland asks, beginning to make the drinks.

“This is Nathaniel. He’s new,” Andrew says dismissively.

“Kind of late to be joining the season, isn’t it?” Roland asks, putting a tray on the bar and starting to set drinks on it, shots first.

“I’m not a student,” Nathaniel says, watching Roland’s hands, keeping an eye on what he’s doing.

“You old enough to drink?”

“No. But neither is Andrew, so don’t pretend you care.”

Roland laughs, plunking a mint leaf into a drink and turning to face Nathaniel better. “What’ll you have, then?”

“Whiskey,” Nathaniel says. “Or whatever. I don’t care.”

“You got it.”

Andrew leans over, or maybe he’s shoved over by the crowd, but regardless, he says into Nathaniel’s ear, “I wasn’t expecting you to drink.”

Nathaniel glances away from Roland long enough to give Andrew a quick glare. “Stop pretending that you know me. You don’t know shit.”

Andrew grabs the back of Nathaniel’s neck and pulls him down enough to whisper in his ear, “That’s why we’re here.” Andrew pulls away when Roland sets out two tumblers of whiskey, and then Andrew picks up the tray and guides Nathaniel back to the table. Nicky is there by the time they return, and he smiles and winks at Nathaniel before stepping aside to offer him a seat.

Nathaniel stands. Andrew passes out drinks, and the packets from Sweetie’s come out of Aaron’s pocket and get distributed. Even Kevin takes one, which results in Nathaniel sneering at him. “You want one?” Nicky asks, dragging Nathaniel’s attention to him. “They don’t really do much except give you a rush. Not addictive at all, just makes the night more enjoyable.”

“No,” Nathaniel says. He doesn’t believe that any sort of drug can just give out a “rush,” and he knows that whatever that yellow powder is, he doesn’t want it. “I’ll stick to the whiskey, thanks.”

Nicky shrugs and tips a packet back into his mouth. Nathaniel reaches for his whiskey and starts drinking. He freezes once the alcohol is in his mouth, looking down at the amber liquid that is too sweet for whiskey. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this isn’t whiskey. In the back of his mind, he knows that something’s not right, but with Andrew grinning at him like a shark, Nathaniel finishes the drink.

“Nicky, take Nathaniel dancing,” Andrew says, flicking his fingers towards the dance floor. “Aaron, you go too. I need to talk to Kevin a moment.”

Before Nathaniel can protest, Nicky has his arm around Nathaniel’s waist and starts leading him away from the table, down the stairs and onto the dance floor. The writhing bodies surround them immediately, making them disappear, making Nathaniel’s pulse rise in his throat. Nathaniel tries to tug away from Nicky’s grip, wanting to be anywhere else, away from the condensed space between sweaty, dancing bodies, but Nicky holds tight and pulls Nathaniel around to face him.

There’s a moment of perfect clarity where Nathaniel understands what’s happening. The sweetness to his drink, the yellow powder, Matt’s balking at the thought of Nathaniel going with Andrew and his monsters to Columbia, to _this_ club. But that realization comes too slow, because Nicky already has a hand on Nathaniel’s chin, tipping his face up, and in the next second their lips are pressed together and Nicky’s tongue is in Nathaniel’s mouth, transferring whatever drug was in the packets onto Nathaniel’s tongue and down his throat.

Nathaniel freezes and goes numb, but his mouth stays pliant because it’s always so much worse if he fights back, if he refuses. He closes his eyes and he’s not here, he’s not in a club, he’s in his room, or another identical black room in the Nest, and he’s being circled by sharks like blood in the water. There are hands on him that he doesn’t want, slipping under his shirt, below his waistband, there are lips on his neck and mouth, wet and hot and starving. He shudders at the contact and someone calls him pretty, someone pushes him against a wall, someone grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down.

“ _Nathaniel_ ,” Andrew growls, and Nathaniel jerks back to the present, to the club, where the music is pounding in his ears and through his body, where his back is shoved firmly against a wall, and where Andrew is standing in front of him, staring and frowning. Behind Andrew, Nathaniel can see Nicky standing beside Aaron, Kevin somewhere in the middle ground between everyone. “What happened?” Andrew asks, and Nathaniel knows that Andrew isn’t addressing him.

“I… I just…” Nicky is shaking, and he can’t seem to find his voice.

Nathaniel’s knees drop out from under him, the drugs from his drink and from Nicky’s tongue finally hitting his system in full. Andrew catches him and pins him up against the wall with his body weight alone. Nathaniel makes a small noise at the way his head is spinning, at the way he can’t fight back, at the way he’s pinned and trapped and going to have to just ride this through. Fighting always makes things worse.

“Nicky,” Andrew snaps, and his cousin visibly shakes again.

“I just kissed him, Andrew. You said to give him the crackers somehow and I didn’t know how else to get it into his system so I just…” Nicky trails off when Andrew turns to look at him. Nathaniel can’t see Andrew’s face, but he can guess it’s something frightening based on how pale Nicky gets. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

A heartbeat later, Andrew turns back to Nathaniel. Andrew’s face is blank once again, staring _through_ Nathaniel in a way that unnerves him to his core. “What’s wrong with you?”

Nathaniel shakes his head, sending the world spinning around him. “Thought it would be different here. Guess I was wrong.” He’d been hoping… _fuck_ , he’d been hoping that being abandoned by Riko to the team Kevin willingly came to would be better. Even if he only planned on staying for three months or less, he’d been hoping that this would be a good place to balance himself before he left. Acknowledging that hope sends Nathaniel reeling. He hadn’t realized what he’d been feeling until the words were out of his mouth.

Andrew studies Nathaniel a second longer before pulling him to his side, an arm around Nathaniel’s waist and Nathaniel’s arm over his shoulder. “We’re leaving,” Andrew says, staring at Nicky the longest before meeting everyone else’s gaze. “Now.”

Because Nathaniel can’t fight it, and because he doesn’t want to stay in the club any longer than he has to, he lets Andrew guide him out. By the time they reach the curb, Andrew is supporting almost all of Nathaniel’s weight. Nathaniel doesn’t have it in him to care anymore. It would make sense that Kevin is following Andrew if Andrew is just like Riko. And if Andrew is just like Riko, then Nathaniel only has to survive the night and then he can leave in the morning. Fuck Wymack and fuck the cops, Nathaniel knows how to hide.

Nathaniel doesn’t even realize Nicky isn’t with the group until he pulls up with the car. Everyone files in, though Nathaniel has to be more or less lifted into the car by Andrew, and then they leave. They pull up to a house a few minutes later, and Nathaniel’s warning bells go off, but everything is sluggish except for his thoughts. He doesn’t try to fight it when Andrew drags Nathaniel from the car and half carries him into the house. They go up a flight of stairs, and Nathaniel is dumped into a chair in what looks like a game room.

“Stay there,” Andrew says, giving Nathaniel a pointed look before leaving. He doesn’t shut the door behind him. Nathaniel sags, and without anything to think about, he stares blankly at the wall. A shout makes it’s way upstairs, and Nathaniel flinches when several other raised voices join in the fray. He wants to curl up and hide so that Riko can’t get him, but he can’t move his body accurately enough to even lift a hand. Besides, it’s not Riko downstairs, it’s Andrew. Which is an even more terrifying concept, because at least Nathaniel knew what he was getting into with Riko. He doesn’t know a thing about Andrew.

There’s a brief, hard knock from the doorway that makes Nathaniel jump and turn his head. The world spins and he groans, pinching his eyes tight. He hadn’t realized that the shouting had stopped. “So you’re not a druggy. The fact that the drugs are hitting you this hard tells me that.” Andrew’s voice. “I guess I’m not surprised, after our little run-in on the stairs yesterday, but I had to make sure.” Nathaniel opens his eyes enough to watch Andrew drag up a chair and sit down across from Nathaniel, so close their knees are almost touching.

“Is that what all this was for?” Nathaniel asks, voice slurred but coherent. “Just to make sure I don’t shoot up on the weekends?”

Andrew shrugs. “Aaron used to. More than just the weekends. I don’t need a fuck up like you dragging him back down that hole.”

Nathaniel grunts, closing his eyes again. “Seems an elaborate setup just to make sure I don’t do drugs.”

“Why do you hate Kevin?” Andrew asks instead of responding to Nathaniel’s bitter accusation.

“I don’t hate Kevin,” Nathaniel says, opening his eyes and trying to sit up straighter. He can tell by Andrew’s voice that this is the core of their problems. This is the real reason Nathaniel got dragged all the way out here tonight. “I’m jealous of him. And I’m angry at him. But I don’t hate him.”

“It can’t be that simple. Not with the way you act around him.”

Nathaniel curls his lip in an automatic show of defense. He’s pretty sure at this point that Andrew isn’t going to fuck him, that this is just about information and not being _used_ , so he stops telling himself to just let things happen and instead he starts building up his wall again. “He told me to stay,” Nathaniel says, and he’s not talking about Palmetto. “I wanted to leave, and Kevin told me to stay, and he told me to convince Jean to stay too. He told me that it wasn’t so bad with Riko, that he would grow on us and we would start to like him. He said that Riko just wasn’t very good with affection but eventually things would smooth out.”

Nathaniel laughs through the drugs and the bitter distaste rising at the back of his throat. “Kevin was blind to Riko. He probably still is, even after running away. Fucking coward,” Nathaniel spits. Andrew just keeps staring, waiting for Nathaniel to go on. “They were brothers, see, almost completely legitimate. Kevin’s mom died and Tetsuji took him in, raised Kevin and Riko together. Riko got angry at Kevin from time to time, sure. Let his bad side show a little. I heard Kevin had a hell of a time learning to write Japanese since he’s left handed. But Kevin never got beaten. He never got whipped. He never had to practice with a concussion or a cracked rib. He was never tied down to his bed or fed to the more sexual boys like Jean and I were. He was never forced to watch his partner getting raped like Jean and I were. Kevin told me to stay, and then the fucking hypocrite went and left after his first taste of pain.” Nathaniel laughs again, shaking his head as much as he can through the haze of drugs. “Somehow, through all of that, I don’t hate him. We were close. I liked him. A lot, actually. But I don’t trust him anymore, and I sure as shit don’t want him around me.”

Andrew stares at Nathaniel, perhaps looking for a lie in his words, perhaps taking a moment to digest all of the truth.

“You didn’t have to drug me to get my mouth to work, you know,” Nathaniel says, not as accusatory as he would have liked. He’s too tired for that. “Next time just ask. I’m not shy about my past.”

“Good to know,” Andrew says, standing up. He grabs a blanket from the loveseat and tosses it onto Nathaniel’s lap before walking out of the room. But he stops at the threshold, staring out into the dark hallway. “What about all of those scars under your newest bloody mess?”

Nathaniel grins, and it’s all teeth and bitterness, feral pain verging on mania. “You’ll have to pay for those.”

Andrew turns off the lights and leaves Nathaniel alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh.... yeah.... sorry....
> 
> also y'all can thank Taylor for me posting this. I wasn't planning on it initially

When Nathaniel wakes up in the morning, it’s to a headache and loose muscles that don’t want to cooperate. There’s a pile of clothes on the coffee table in front of him, with a note taped on top that reads: _Drink some water and take a fucking shower._ Nathaniel scowls and rips off the note, but he picks up the folded clothes and leaves the room with them in his arms. After a quick search of the upstairs, he finds that there isn’t a bathroom, so Nathaniel descends the staircase to the main floor. There’s noise coming from the kitchen, but that’s thankfully out of sight of the stairway. He finds the bathroom down a hall that also leads to two other bedrooms.

He drinks water out of the tap and takes a long, hot shower. While he’s scrubbing the smell of alcohol off his skin and out of his hair, he mulls over what happened last night, what it means. Hopefully what it means is that Nathaniel will be left alone. By the time he steps out of the shower and pulls on the clean clothes – which, like the clubbing clothes, fit him perfectly – he’s decided that he doesn’t want to care about what happens now, if anything happens now at all. As soon as he’s eighteen, he’ll be leaving.

Nathaniel finds Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky in the kitchen, each with a steaming mug of coffee in their hands. Nicky spots him first. “Oh, Nathaniel, fuck, I’m so sorry about last night.” He puts his mug down and sheepishly approaches Nathaniel. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t kn-”

“Nicky.” Andrew’s voice is a warning from the front door. Nicky winces and swallows, and Nathaniel sees the edge of a bandage when the collar of Nicky’s shirt slips a little as he turns away. Nathaniel narrows his eyes and flicks his gaze to Andrew, who takes off his shoes and walks into the kitchen with fast food breakfast. Kevin makes a face at the greasy food, but he digs around in the bags anyway.

“I never asked you to defend me,” Nathaniel says to Andrew. He gestures with his chin towards Nicky, who turns his head away. Aaron moves to stand beside his cousin. Kevin leaves the kitchen completely.

Andrew looks up from the hash browns he pulls out of the paper bag. “Who said I was defending you?” That too-wide smile is back on Andrew’s face, and Nathaniel isn’t sure if he’s happy about Andrew being medicated again or not. Andrew is certainly more dangerous off his drugs, but then again he’s dangerous on them too. Andrew pushes a brown bag towards Nathaniel. “I see you can follow directions well enough,” he says, pointedly looking at Nathaniel’s clothes and his wet hair. “Eat. It’ll get the drugs out of your system before we reach Palmetto.”

There’s no room for trust in Nathaniel’s life, but he takes out a sausage-and-egg biscuit and methodically chews his way through it.

They leave before ten, Andrew leading the way out the door and Aaron locking up behind everyone. Andrew has the keys in his hands and unlocks the car as he angles towards the drivers door. “Nathaniel,” Andrew croons, opening his door and resting his forearm on the top of the car. “You’re riding shotgun.”

Kevin makes a startled face. “Andrew,” he says, though it sounds more like whining to Nathaniel.

Andrew shoots him a look and silences him. “I do not think it will kill you, Kevin Day, to ride in the backseat.”

Though he can understand Kevin’s discomfort, Nathaniel doesn’t sympathize with him. He walks up to the car and stares at Andrew over the top. Andrew’s pupils are not blown wide, and there are deep purple bags under his eyes. He’s still sober, or trying to be. Nathaniel had misjudged him in the house, caught up in the rhythm of that rather frightening smile. “Tell me why,” Nathaniel says. “You shoved me in the middle yesterday. Why do I get the front now?”

The curious look Andrew gives Nathaniel sends a shiver down his spine. “Oh, Nathaniel. Because you’re claustrophobic, because you don’t like to be touched, and because I got what I needed and am done antagonizing you. For now.” Andrew ducks into his seat and starts the engine. “Get in the car, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel gets in, pulling on his seatbelt and leaning back into the seat.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because the next time he opens his eyes, they’re parked outside of Fox Tower and the others are exiting the car. With a groan, Nathaniel gets out and closes the door maybe a little too hard. He stretches his hands above his head and yawns. Andrew was right, the drugs are completely out of his system. The exhaustion sweeping through him now is mostly mental and only a little bit physical – thanks to his still-healing body.

Andrew and his monsters disappear into their room, and Nathaniel continues on to 306. The door is unlocked, so Nathaniel quietly lets himself in. Matt and Jacob are both on the sofa, each with a controller in hand, eyes on the TV. Nathaniel closes the door. “Did you find your green pillowcase?” Nathaniel asks, and both men jump out of their seats. Jacob just barely remembers to pause the game, and then suddenly both of them are standing close by, obviously worried.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, because apparently someone has to.

Nathaniel shrugs his shoulders and makes his way into the kitchenette, intent on having some coffee no matter how late into the day it is. “I’m fine. Andrew and I had a nice long conversation. I handled it.” He starts the coffeepot and turns back to Matt, folding his arms across his chest and raising his eyebrows in expectation.

Matt flounders for a moment, staring at Nathaniel and obviously wondering how he’s still in one piece. So Jacob answers for him. “It was in between the cushions on the sofa. Guessing Dan hid it there. She knows how particular Matt is about his green sheets, and she likes to get him riled up.”

“Hey, man,” Matt says, finding himself again. “They’re good fucking sheets! So fucking comfortable. I swear, I’ve never slept on better sheets.”

Jacob scoffs, flicking his hand in the air as if he could wave away the absurd idea. “They’re just sheets, Matthew.”

“They’re _amazing_ sheets!”

Nathaniel can feel the corners of his mouth lifting at the ridiculous conversation happening in front of him. This never would have happened at Evermore. There never would have been green sheets to start with.

The door bursts open just then and Raphael comes into the room. “Are we arguing about Matthew’s green sheets again?”

“Jesus, not you too! Raph, don’t let them take you over to their side. You’ve laid on them, you know how comfortable they are.”

Nathaniel’s coffee finishes, and he loses track of the conversation for a moment. When he turns back around, Matt looks to be near tears, and Raphael and Jacob are exchanging mischievous looks. Nathaniel can feel himself smiling, and as he walks around them on his way to the bedroom for another really quick powernap – just to take the edge off before the caffeine kicks in – he thinks that he might actually be able to be happy here.

That thought is shattered when Nathaniel jerks awake from a nightmare, turning over and coughing to try and get air back into his lungs. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and it comes away bloody. Nathaniel startles, jerking back and blinking, but when he looks again, it’s just sweat and saliva. Shivers wrack through him and he collapses back into the bed. He can still taste the dream, the memory, the extended truth of what happens when he lets himself be happy. He gets hurt. People around him get hurt. When he smiles, he gets too pretty and Riko lets the others have Nathaniel as they please. Nathaniel buries his face in his pillow and lets himself feel choked, lets the lack of oxygen rush through him, stirring fear through him, and he doesn’t pull back for a breath until he can feel himself getting light-headed.

He’s not allowed to be happy.

He’s not allowed to be happy.

_He’s not allowed to be happy._

It’s just practice, it’s just Exy, it’s just passing classes well enough to get into college, it’s just playing the game better than anyone else, it’s just getting onto a professional team, it’s just making it to court. There’s nothing else. That’s all he’s allowed. That and pain.

He slips out of bed and puts his shoes on. Matt and Jacob and Raphael are sitting in the living room, all three of them enraptured by a game. “Where are you off to?” Jacob asks.

“I’ll be back later,” Nathaniel says, and leaves.

He ends up at the court because where else is he supposed to go? He types in the code for the keypad and breaks into the other doors to the rooms that he needs to be in. He finds gear that fits him, finds a racquet his size, finds a bucket of balls. His body is already flashing warning signs at him to not do this. The gear digs into some of his cuts, but Nathaniel ignores it and heads onto the court. The lights take a while to come on, slowly filling up the darkness as Nathaniel walks to the inner court.

The bolt of the court door slides easily into place, locking Nathaniel in. He walks to the first fourth line and dumps out the balls. Nathaniel isn’t a striker, but even backliners need to know how to throw, need to know how to aim. He would have grabbed cones if he had found any, but Nathaniel likes to practice against the goal anyway. He likes the way the wall flashes red with a successful hit.

Nathaniel scoops up a ball and spins the racquet in his hands. He takes the shot before he can think better of it. The wall lights up red. He scoops up another ball, shoots, the ball hits the same spot and the wall lights up red. He does this, again and again and again until he runs out of balls to throw. Then he does drills, footwork. His body screams at him – his muscles scream out their joy at being used again, finally; every wound screams in agony. He runs laps, runs and runs and runs and runs until he finally collapses in the middle of the court, falling to his knees and staring down towards the home goal.

He hears shouting on the other side of the Plexiglas, but he doesn’t turn to look. That’ll be Jean, coming to chew him out and pop him on the back of his head and shove him off the court to fuss over him with bandages and furious French. If they’re lucky, Riko won’t find out about Nathaniel blowing himself out during a solitary practice, but Riko finds out about everything.

“Nathaniel! Christ, Nathaniel, the fuck did you do to yourself?”

That’s not Jean.

Nathaniel turns his head, blinking slowly at Kevin, who drops to his knees next to Nathaniel. “Kevin,” Nathaniel says. He tries to make it a statement, but he knows it comes out more like a question. _What are you doing here?_ “How did you get away from Riko?”

Kevin jerks his head up from where he was working at undoing the straps of Nathaniel’s gear. With only one usable hand, it’s a tedious task. Kevin curses in French, reaching up to put his hands on either side of Nathaniel’s face. The cast over his left hand is rough against Nathaniel’s cheek. “Listen to me,” Kevin says, and the switch from French to English fucks with Nathaniel’s head for a moment. “ _Listen_. You’re not there anymore. You are not at Evermore. Riko is not here. It’s just you and me.”

“Andrew never lets you out of his sight,” Nathaniel says, pressing forth his new knowledge despite the fact that he’s still waiting for Jean to arrive with bandages and a foul mood, and for Riko to show up with handcuffs and knives.

“Andrew isn’t on the court. It’s just you and me,” Kevin repeats. “And you’re bleeding like a motherfucker, so can you please, please stop giving me that hollow look and help me get your gear off?”

That’s a sound Nathaniel hasn’t heard in years. “The last time you were afraid was when Riko threatened to bench you,” he says, his eyes finding Kevin’s and slowly, slowly focusing on the pinched black eyebrows drawn low over bright green irises. Nathaniel remembers this, remembers late-night laughter with Kevin and Riko, sitting in the middle of the court, making fun of the mistakes that the older Ravens, the _actual_ Ravens, had made during practice. He remembers sitting on Kevin’s bed and them helping each other with homework while Riko studied across the room. He remembers looking up and finding those eyes and feeling… happy.

“There you are,” Kevin says, his hands leaving Nathaniel’s face to go back to working at the straps.

Nathaniel blinks, taking in what’s going on, taking count of his injuries and how bad they are. There’s blood everywhere. He can feel it soaking through his clothes, making the fabric cling to his skin. He _hurts_ , but that’s nothing new. Kevin tugs on a strap, trying to get it loose, and Nathaniel jerks away. “Don’t _fucking_ touch me,” he hisses, curling his body away from Kevin’s helpful hands. But Kevin isn’t Jean, and Jean is the one who’s supposed to be taking care of Nathaniel after he does something stupid, after he fucks up so bad that he can’t even take the gear off of himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kevin says and reaches for Nathaniel again.

“Leave it on,” Nathaniel snaps, lightheaded and shaking from blood loss.

Kevin stares at him, good hand still hanging in the air between them. “You used to trust me,” he says, sounding hurt, wounded.

Nathaniel snarls at him, still hunched over, arms curled protectively around his gut. “People change,” is all he says.

A fist pounds against the Plexiglas, and Nathaniel turns his head to see Andrew standing in the doorway. “Are we going today or is Nathaniel opting to bleed out on the court?”

Kevin lifts his hands in an “I’m trying” gesture, and while the striker is distracted, Nathaniel pushes to his feet. He sways, and dark spots pop in and out of his vision, but he stays standing. He takes a step, and then another, putting himself in Kevin’s line of sight. Kevin swears and scrambles to his feet, hastening to get closer to Nathaniel.

“You touch me,” Nathaniel says, eyes straight ahead, “you lose your right hand too.”

Wisely, Kevin doesn’t touch Nathaniel. Andrew is smirking and leaning against the side of the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “You always like this when you’re injured?”

“Like what?” Nathaniel asks, breathless. He’s forced to stop because Andrew won’t move out of the way.

Andrew looks him over, from the top of his head to his toes and back up to his eyes. “Slow.”

Nathaniel sways, his eyes snagging on Andrew’s widening smile, and then his eyes roll up into the back of his head and he passes out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright let's see...
> 
> the rape word gets brought up again  
> mentions of STIs (again)  
> uhhhh....  
> idk it's pretty on par with what i've written so far

Nathaniel regains consciousness in time to watch Andrew pound his fist against Wymack’s door. There’s an arm banded tightly around Nathaniel’s waist, and he realizes after a long moment – when his cognition is slowly trying to catch up – that it’s Andrew’s arm around him. He can feel Andrew’s bicep against his back, and every time Nathaniel sways, the muscle flexes to adjust to Nathaniel’s moving weight.

Andrew growls and pounds his fist again. “I swear to god if the two of you fucking makes Nathaniel die I will never let you live this down.”

Nathaniel’s brows furrow. _Wymack and Abby are fucking?_ Mere moments later, the door is thrown open to reveal Wymack, who doesn’t look even a little hastily dressed. Abby is behind him, looking concerned but certainly not like she and Wymack were just having sex. Nathaniel isn’t sure who to believe in the moment – his own eyes or Andrew.

“What the fuck happened?” Wymack demands, stepping aside and ushering everyone in.

Andrew steps into the apartment, easily supporting Nathaniel’s uncoordinated body. For a moment, Nathaniel remembers Andrew all but carrying him up the stairs of the house in Columbia. They are the same motions, but the connotations are very, very different. Andrew makes a sweeping motion with his free hand. “Nathaniel had a breakdown, probably. Broke into the locker room and stole some practice gear and practiced.”

At the mention of the practice gear, Nathaniel realizes that he’s no longer wearing any. He wonders briefly who took it off – Andrew or Kevin – and which option would be worse.

Abby finally seems to come out of her shock, because she walks forward and lifts the hem of Nathaniel’s bloody shirt. She curses quietly. “David, where can I treat him?”

“Does he need to be lying down?”

“That would be preferable.”

Wymack grunts and gestures down the hall. “Bed’s fine. I’ve been meaning to buy new sheets anyway.”

Abby nods. “Kevin, can you go get my med kit from my car?”

Nathaniel can’t see Kevin from where he’s standing, but a second later the door opens and slams closed. Nathaniel can’t hide his flinch from the others.

Andrew transfers his grip on Nathaniel in a way that makes Nathaniel tense up. “You’re too slow,” Andrew says into Nathaniel’s ear. “And you’re getting blood all over poor Coach’s carpet. I’m trying to speed things along. Problem?”

Nathaniel shakes his head, and he tries not to make any pained noises as Andrew picks him up and easily carries him down the hall to Wymack’s bedroom. Andrew keeps his hold on Nathaniel until Abby lays down some towels, and then Andrew sets Nathaniel down on top of them. It might have been the blood loss warping Nathaniel’s brain, but he thinks that Andrew is being remarkably gentle with him, despite the shit that happened last night.

“I’ve got him, Andrew,” Abby says softly, moving to kneel by Nathaniel’s side.

Andrew retreats a couple paces. Not even a moment later, Kevin enters the room, Abby’s bright red bag in one hand, a kitchen chair in the other. Kevin turns the chair around and sits down in it backwards, folding his arms over the back of the chair. Nathaniel’s surprise must show on his face, because Kevin looks at him and says, “I’m not leaving you.”

Nathaniel doesn’t say _it’s too late for that_. He doesn’t say anything, just hisses a little when Abby cuts his shirt off of him, exposing tender wounds to open air.

Andrew seems to take this as his cue to leave, because he flicks his fingers in the air as if ridding himself of Nathaniel and all his problems and turns from the room, closing the door most of the way.

“Jesus Christ,” Abby whispers, and the horror in her voice makes Nathaniel lift his head up enough to look down at himself. He’s bleeding quite significantly from most of his wounds, which are gaping and red with blood and inflammation. The majority of the stitches are still holding on to one side or another of the wounds, irritating the skin that they rub against.

“Always wanted to be a zombie for Halloween,” Nathaniel says, lowering his head so that he’s lying down all the way again. “Too bad it’s not October anymore.”

“You’re an idiot,” Kevin says rather gruffly as Abby starts digging around in her emergency bag.

Nathaniel waves his hand dismissively. “We knew that already.”

“This is going to hurt,” Abby says, breaking her way into the conversation.

Nathaniel doesn’t even look to see what she’s talking about. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.” That truth doesn’t stop the next minute and a half from being near-blinding agony, though. He clenches his jaw and fists and sucks air through his nose and doesn’t make a noise. When Abby pulls away and the pain starts to fade, he looks down and watches her packing away a syringe. “Couldn’t use the swabs?” he asks, gasping for breath as he blinks slowly at the ceiling.

“You ripped the wounds to shreds, Nathaniel. I couldn’t swab anesthetic around the areas without risking infection. Had to be a shot.”

“I know,” Nathaniel says, closing his eyes as cool numbness spreads over his abdomen and up his chest, licking away the pain and sending him into a blissful state of exhaustion. “I was trying for sarcasm.”

Abby waits a second more before she leans over him. He still doesn’t watch, but he can hear the snick of scissors cutting through his stitches. This was Jean’s job. And Nathaniel’s, for Jean’s injuries. Nathaniel could be stitching himself up right now, but he hadn’t thought about protesting when it became evident that Andrew and Kevin would bring him to help. Maybe he should have. He doesn’t know what to do with Abby’s tight and concerned expression.

“Did Andrew tell you about the blood tests?” Abby asks as she starts on her stitching, working on the larger wounds first.

Kevin balks and leans back in his chair, flicking his gaze back and forth between Abby and Nathaniel. “What blood tests?” Abby makes a noise but doesn’t otherwise respond. Kevin turns to Nathaniel with expectantly raised eyebrows.

Nathaniel doesn’t answer and turns back to the ceiling. “He said I was clean,” he says to Abby.

Abby makes another noise, and Nathaniel can feel his skin pulling as she ties off a stitch. “Well, the tests for the hepatitis, herpes, and syphilis came back clean. Those are pretty easy blood tests, so I had those the day Andrew told you. He wasn’t supposed to hear, obviously. But he has a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Kevin shifts in his chair. “Nathaniel, why did you get tested for STIs?”

Nathaniel ignores him yet again, curious about the exclusion of the main STI. The tension in Abby’s shoulders is telling. “What about the cheek swab?” Nathaniel asks, trying to get her to admit what he’s fearing without having to ask her about it.

“Well the cheek swab only tests for HIV,” she says, cutting off some extra thread and moving to make another switch. “It’s not always accurate, which is why a blood test is also needed.”

“Abby,” Nathaniel’s voice is hard as stone and sharp as a knife. It’s a tone he’s very familiar with using and even more familiar with hearing directed at him.

A great heaving sigh falls from Abby’s lips, and her shoulders slump, but she doesn’t move back from trying to stitch Nathaniel back together. “The cheek swab came back positive. We won’t know about the blood test until Tuesday at the earliest. Friday at the latest.”

Nathaniel waits for the panic to settle into his gut, waits for his rapidly beating heart or the rushing sound in his ears. He waits for his lungs to seize up and refuse to take in air no matter how desperate Nathaniel is to breathe. He waits, but the only thing that happens is Kevin’s colorful, thorough swearing and his beginning to pace the room. Nathaniel just lets out a mildly interested noise and blinks up at the ceiling. After a moment Nathaniel asks, “Did Andrew know?”

“No,” Abby says. “David doesn’t even know. I just told him what you tested negative on and that the rest of the results would hopefully be here by Tuesday.”

Nothing else is said for a long while. Kevin continues his pacing until Nathaniel snaps at him to sit the fuck down. Kevin listens, though it seems to be grudgingly. He folds his arms over the back of the chair again and stares hard at Nathaniel. “Were you going to tell me?” Kevin demands. Nathaniel thinks it’s nice to see Kevin with a spine and no one around to support him. Of course that only happens when Kevin gets upset about something related to Exy. Nathaniel figures that this isn’t any different. With a positive test for HIV, it would be very unlikely that he would get accepted into a college to play Exy, and it would be impossible for him to get into a professional team. It’s too bloody of a sport to allow for that.

Nathaniel ignores him.

There are only seven stitches left to tie when Abby asks, “Why?”

Nathaniel knows she isn’t asking about the results of the tests, or what happened to make those tests a necessity. He sighs and turns his head to look at Kevin. This is more a conversation between the two of them, anyway. Abby is just acting as a conduit for things Kevin is too afraid to ask. “Because I was happy.”

Kevin flinches and ducks his head. Abby’s hands stop moving for a moment. Nathaniel can hear her drag in a shaky breath before she continues. “You did this…” It becomes an obvious struggle for Abby to get ahold of herself and to understand why Nathaniel would do something like this. “You broke every single one of your stitches, shredding your wounds and bleeding all over the court and David’s bed… because you were happy?” There’s something horrible and frightened and shaky and empathetic in her voice, but Nathaniel doesn’t know enough about sympathy to be able to identify it.

Nathaniel hums in agreement, his eyes still focused on Kevin. When Kevin lifts his head again, their gazes snag, and Nathaniel does his damnedest to make Kevin keep looking at him. “It didn’t feel right,” Nathaniel says, voice steady and flat despite the very light feeling in his head, despite the numbness still settled deep in his body from the anesthetic. He’s building up his wall again, needing that distance, needing to put his emotions away, leaving room for only the facts. “I’ve been happy before,” he clarifies. “It’s not a new feeling. Kevin’s made me happy. Jean’s made me happy. My mom used to make me happy too. And there were other times, obviously, both on court and off. But the thing that makes it not feel right is that I’ve never been allowed to _stay_ happy.”

Kevin looks like he wants to turn away, so Nathaniel pauses long enough to glare at him, to hold enough accusation in his eyes to keep Kevin focused. “Something good happens,” Nathaniel says. “Maybe I get a perfect score on a paper. Maybe I block all of Kevin’s shots on the goal. Maybe I make the mistake of blocking all of Riko’s shots too. In the beginning, my birthdays made me happy, too. But the problem with being happy is that it’s usually because of an accomplishment. I tried really hard on that paper. I ran my ass off to keep up with Kevin’s long strides. I spun quick enough to keep up with Riko. I turned a year older.”

By this point Kevin is shaking. Nathaniel can barely see it, but it’s there. “When you play for the Ravens,” Nathaniel continues, voice still emotionless, “you learn pretty quickly that only Riko is allowed to accomplish anything. And when you challenge that standard, when you _beat_ him… there’s a lot of pain. It’s conditioning. It’s a reflex. After a while, happiness gets associated with pain. Combine that mental rewiring with my waking up from a nightmare, and you get a volatile concoction that had me running to the court to punish myself.”

Abby leans back after finishing the last stitch. She pointedly doesn’t meet Nathaniel’s gaze, which is for the best, because Nathaniel is still staring at Kevin, watching realization seep into his eyes, watching the cogs turning in his head, watching him slowly piece together all of that information with the knowledge of the STI tests. He can see when Kevin finally understands. Abby puts on Nathaniel’s bandages in silence, and when she’s done she zips up her emergency medical bag and pulls off her latex gloves. “You need to rest,” she says, and this time Nathaniel turns his head to her. Her voice solidifies. “I mean it. You are on bed rest until noon tomorrow. You can move to get back to the dorms, but then I want you in bed. After that, I don’t want you to even think about the court until Monday night’s practice, and then I want you in the lounge doing homework in a comfortable chair, not sitting on the bench watching the others play. I will look at you again in a week, and I swear by all that is holy, if you have popped even a single stitch….”

The threat is left to hang in the air between then, but Nathaniel can’t help himself when he says, “You’ll what?”

Abby sighs and drops her eyes. They both know that she can’t scare Nathaniel into obedience, and she doesn’t have any leverage to hold over his head for blackmail. After a moment, she gets to her feet. “Please, Nathaniel? I want you to be okay.” She touches her fingertips to the top of his head, and he lets her.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Nathaniel says, watching Abby pick up her bag and leave the room. He waits until the door is shut before he sits up, glad that the anesthetic is still working or else he would be in a lot more pain. He looks up at Kevin, who has stopped shaking and is now just staring at the bright white bandages covering Nathaniel’s body.

“I didn’t know,” Kevin says.

“I know,” Nathaniel responds, reaching for the tatters of his shirt. The shirt Andrew had bought for him. Had it really been just this morning when he’d woken up in Columbia? He feels like that was years ago. Or maybe where he is right now is years ago, talking to Kevin as someone who became dangerous because he made Nathaniel happy. Nathaniel holds the ruined shirt in his hands, thumb rubbing on a bloodstain as if that alone could get it out.

Kevin swallows. “How… how many times did he…”

Nathaniel looks up. “Rape me? He didn’t. Riko isn’t gay. He just liked being the one to hand me over to a new room of sex-starved men. He liked to dress me up and give me to them like I was a present. Especially on my birthday. But to better answer your question, I don’t know how many guys I went through. They were all clean though. It was this time,” Nathaniel gestures at himself, at the wounds currently hidden by bandages, “that he didn’t care about that.” Nathaniel snorts. “I’m sure he did it on purpose. Just in case I survived. Wanted to have a back-up plan.”

The wounded and horrified look Kevin makes is enough to make Nathaniel angry again. “I’m sorry.”

Nathaniel takes a moment to stare at Kevin, to look him over and measure him up in his mind. “The last time you said that, you abandoned me.” Kevin flinches again, opens his mouth to say something else. Nathaniel cuts him off. “I don’t care,” he says, getting to his feet and leaving Kevin alone in the room.

Wymack and Andrew are sitting in the living room, a bottle of scotch on the coffee table between them. Ignoring their stares, Nathaniel walks up to them and lifts the bottle to his lips, taking two long swallows before setting it back down. He turns his gaze to Andrew. “I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” he says.

Andrew’s eyes flick to the hallway. “Did you kill him?” He doesn’t sound like he cares one way or another.

“No.”

Nodding, Andrew gets to his feet and smiles down at Wymack. “You can babysit him for a while, right? Bring him back to me in one piece.”

Wymack gets up as well, waving his hand at Andrew. “Get this fuckhead out of here. Make sure Matt and Jacob know that he’s supposed to stay in his bed. I’ll bring drama queen back before he drowns himself in the vodka.”

Andrew turns to look at Nathaniel, eyes sweeping up and down. The look he gives Nathaniel is easy to interpret.

“I can walk. Doesn’t hurt right now.”

Without another word, Andrew leaves the apartment, Nathaniel on his heels.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a bit shorter than normal, and it's more of a "summary" chapter, so there's a lot of information over a short period of time. I just got lazy and didn't want to drag this out into like three additional chapters, so it's all in one.

When Nathaniel woke up Tuesday morning, he was not expecting to find himself, at any part of the day, pinning Kevin to the floor.

The room around them is silent, Foxes frozen where they were either walking into the room or finding a seat. Nathaniel hears Andrew step closer, and Nathaniel doesn’t stop him. Andrew deeps his distance – close enough that he could intervene if he wanted to. Kevin tries to say something, tries to sit up, but Nathaniel shoves him down and hisses at him to shut up. He bands his forearm over Kevin’s throat, applying just enough pressure for Kevin to feel it.

This morning, all Nathaniel had wanted to do was stretch his muscles. After twenty-four hours cooped up in bed and all of Monday sitting around the dorm, he just wanted to be outside, walking, taking in the sky and the air that he hadn’t been allowed to have at Evermore. But, per Abby’s orders, Nathaniel is stuck inside until his stitches do their jobs and close up his wounds.

Nathaniel leans down closer to Kevin, invading his space. He’s straddling the taller striker, keeping him pinned rather easily. “What do you want?” Nathaniel asks, voice deadly. His knife isn’t in his hand, though. Kevin is too docile to be any sort of threat.

Kevin grunts under the light pressure of Nathaniel’s arm on his windpipe, and Nathaniel eases up, putting his arm across Kevin’s chest instead to keep him down. “I want to talk to you.”

“See, you said that,” Nathaniel says, grinning. Kevin had approached him before all of the Foxes had arrived, asking if he could have a word. “But you made your mistake when you reached for me. All of this could have been a simple no. We didn’t have to end up here.” The only reason they’re on the ground is because this is where Nathaniel has the advantage. Against the wall, Kevin could have thrown him easily. But not here.

“Nathaniel, please.”

“Try again.”

Kevin curls his lip, and Nathaniel revels in the spark in his eye. “What will it take to make you listen to me?”

“That depends entirely on what you’re thinking about saying.”

“I’m sorr-”

“You said that already!” Nathaniel’s shout sends an uncomfortable stir through the gathered Foxes. Nathaniel can see Andrew tense out of the corner of his eye. “Three times, actually, and I’m not any more inclined to forgive you now than I was the first time.” He grits his teeth against the bitter taste of how close his voice is to breaking. He shoves on Kevin’s chest, which does nothing, but makes him feel a little better. “You are a month too late, a decade too late. You want me to trust you again? It’s not going to happen. You want me to have your back? Fuck you. I don’t give a _shit_ , Kevin.”

“I fucked up, okay?” Kevin’s voice rises with Nathaniel’s, and the side of his fist slams into the floor by his hip. “I fucked up, and I can’t change the past. I wish I could, Nathaniel. Fuck, I wish I could. But I can’t. This is all there is now. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Nathaniel blinks, once, twice, slowly. He leans back a little and laughs. “Lose me? Oh no, Kevin, you’re mistaken. See, what really happened is that _you_ abandoned _me_. Do you see how that works? You left me there to rot. You left Jean there too. _I_ lost _you_. And now I don’t want you back. So you stay. Away. From me.” He shoves on Kevin’s chest one last time before he gets to his feet. Andrew watches him, arms folded, but doesn’t say anything. Nathaniel leaves the room and heads down the hall, out of sight.

There he waits, leaning against the wall and holding his laptop to his chest, until the sounds of the team practicing reaches his ears. He returns to the lounge and seats himself in one of the armchairs. Homework is stacking up in his queue, so he sighs and sets to work on chemistry, trying to get that out of the way before he starts in on the easier topics. At least all of his classes this year are dual credit.

He’s just starting in on his math, about an hour into the Foxes’ practice, when Abby slips into the lounge with a soft knock and a gentle smile. “Hey,” she says, taking a seat near Nathaniel on a sofa. “So I got your blood test back for the HIV.” She lifts the small envelope in her hands and shakes it a bit to emphasize her point. Nathaniel sets aside his laptop and turns to face her properly. “I haven’t opened it,” she says, and holds it out to Nathaniel. “I thought you might want to.”

Nathaniel takes the envelope from her slender hands and stares down at it. He had forgotten somehow, already, the news he had received from Abby on Saturday. No, that wasn’t true. He hadn’t forgotten. He’d just pushed it aside and buried it, because there was a chance the test could have been false.

He’s tempted, now, to push the envelope back into her hands. _I don’t want to know_. If he knows, and it’s bad, then he won’t be able to play. If Abby knows, and it’s bad, then he won’t be able to play. He wants to rip the envelope into shreds and pretend that it doesn’t exist. But there’s already a record of the test having been conducted, meaning that if he’s positive, and he doesn’t tell anyone, he could be in serious trouble from the NCAA or the pro circuit. So Nathaniel rips it open and pulls out the sheet of paper.

It takes him a while to figure out what’s going on. His head is a fuzzy mess of premature panic, and all of the words are jumbling up in front of him. Eventually, he hands the sheet back to Abby. “Can you…?” He doesn’t finish the question, but he doesn’t have to.

Abby looks down at the paper, and after a moment she fixes Nathaniel with a serious face and says, “You’re clean.”

Nathaniel sags in his chair, dropping back against the cushion and closing his eyes. “Thank fucking Christ,” he whispers, scrubbing his hands over his face and pushing his fingers through his hair. He sits up slowly, more conscious of his injuries with Abby around. “Thank you,” he says, and he’s not sure what he’s thanking her for, but the words are there anyway, and they’re honest.

Abby smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“Great, now that that’s over.” Nathaniel twists in his chair to find Wymack leaning against the wall, arms folded loosely over his chest. “I need to talk to you in my office.”

Nathaniel glances at his computer and the math problems still waiting for him on his screen before he closes the laptop and gets to his feet. Wymack leads Nathaniel into his office, and Nathaniel sits in a chair across the desk from him. The wall behind Wymack is covered in memorabilia – team photos, newspaper clippings, plaques, a college diploma, a shelf for small trophies, and a framed certificate for something Nathaniel can’t make out from where he’s sitting. There are five filing cabinets lining the wall to Nathaniel’s left, and bookshelves covering the wall to his right.

“So,” Wymack starts, folding his hands on top of his messy desk. “You don’t seem like someone who beats around the bush, so I’m not going to come at this from different angles.” Nathaniel can see the hesitation in the coach’s features, the uncertainty behind his eyes, but Wymack plows ahead anyway. “Look, you don’t have any statistics. There’s nothing about you that I can pull out of anywhere, except for a little leagues team. You didn’t play in high school. Your name is basically nowhere. I don’t even know what position you play.”

“Backliner,” Nathaniel supplies. “And to answer your question, which you have, actually, been dancing around, is no.”

Wymack leans back in his chair, his folded hands resting across his stomach. “Where else are you going to go? I don’t mean to be rude, but no one else is going to take you in. Like I said, you don’t have any statistics. You can’t get into a team with your tattoo alone. Do you know how many crazy fans have tattooed ones and twos on their cheeks? It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that someone would tattoo a three as well, to make themselves look like they’re part of the circle. Edgar Allan isn’t going to take you back.”

“I don’t want Edgar Allan to take me back.” Nathaniel stares at Wymack blankly. “And I don’t want to stay here.”

“Are you refusing because Kevin’s here?”

“So what if I am? Don’t harbor any delusions, David. Kevin and I have a sloppy history, and we’re not going to work well together.”

Wymack scoffs. “Everyone on my team has a sloppy history. Aaron and Andrew have the sloppiest. They’re still fine on the court.”

Nathaniel shakes his head and stands up. “I don’t care. You don’t need another backliner, Coach. You need a striker. Or two. You’ll only have one next season, and that’s not enough to get you through. Find someone else.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY CHAPTER

There’s a knock on the door of the suite Wednesday afternoon. Matt doesn’t look away from the television, waving his hand towards the door. “That’s for you,” he says, quickly bringing his hand back to the controller.

Nathaniel sighs and puts his laptop away. With as many distractions that he’s been encountering, it’s a wonder he’s getting any homework down at all. He doesn’t know how any of the Foxes are passing their classes. He pushes up from the armchair that Jacob and Matt let him commandeer for the time being. They usually sit on the sofa anyway, so they said they wouldn’t miss it. For the first time since his new stitches were put in on Saturday, he’s not in any pain. He’s been feeling relatively good all day, probably thanks to Jacob and Matt keeping an eye on him to make sure he’s not exerting himself. Dan has been keeping him company lately too, whenever the boys aren’t around to do it.

“I’m coming,” Nathaniel says, irritation barely creeping into his voice, when another series of knocks rap off the door. He twists the knob and pulls the door open to find Dan, Allison, and Renee standing there, grins on their faces. Nathaniel narrows his eyes and glances back at Matt, who is still very focused on his game.

“Where’s Jacob?” Allison asks, peering into the room.

“Class,” Nathaniel answers before Matt has the chance to.

Allison pouts. “Pity. He’s about to owe Dan and I twenty bucks.”

Nathaniel leans against the doorway. “What did you bet on?” This is something that he’s discovered is a Fox tradition. Everyone bets on everything, from when people are going to hook up down to what color shoes a teammate is going to buy. He doesn’t understand the point, but it’s harmless and doesn’t affect their ability to play the game. It’s also rather amusing to Nathaniel, so he hasn’t bothered asking what the point is.

“You’re coming out with us,” Dan says, reaching out to ruffle Nathaniel’s hair, but he leans away before she gets too close. She pulls her hand back but doesn’t lose her smile. “We’re all going to Columbia for some clothes, and we’ll grab some food on our way home.”

“You need to let me buy you clothes,” Allison says, eyes dragging over Nathaniel’s wardrobe, which is ninety percent black fabric. “You’re not a Raven anymore. Andrew wearing all black all the time is bad enough. I don’t need two black holes in my line of sight.”

“I have my own money, you know,” Nathaniel says, insulted.

“Great, then I’ll pick out the clothes and you buy them. Renee needs an upgrade too, so don’t think you’re being singled out.”

Nathaniel sighs, flicking his gaze to Renee for a moment. “I don’t really have a choice in this, do I?”

Renee shakes her head, soft smile on her lips. “I’d just go along with it. Allison isn’t afraid to use extraneous force.”

“I’m pretty sure she can’t blackmail me. But fine. I’ll go.” Nathaniel figures there’s no point in arguing. He needs a break from his homework anyway, and he’s tired of being cooped up in his room. If the girls are offering an escape, even if that means getting dragged through clothing stores, Nathaniel is willing to go along with it.

“Ha!” Allison crows. From behind him, Nathaniel can hear Matt groan. “You owe Dan and me twenty bucks, Matt. Due by tomorrow at the start of practice.” She turns to Nathaniel. “Do you need to grab anything? Some extra bandages or something?”

“Allison,” Dan chides, lightly slapping Allison’s arm. “He’s not going to pull any stitches. We’re just going shopping.”

“You never know,” Allison says innocently.

Renee gives Nathaniel a knowing look. Nathaniel feels a chill crawl up his spine, though not necessarily because Renee freaks him out. He’s gotten more comfortable with her lately, and they bonded over lunch one day talking about Exy and defense techniques in fighting. It’s just that he’s not used to getting such an understanding expression from anyone but Jean. “I think,” Renee says, “that Nathaniel will be just fine. He wants to get back on the court too much to risk pulling anything again.”

Nathaniel gives a small, conceding nod to Renee. “Let me go get my wallet.”

“Be quick about it!” Dan says to his retreating form. “We still have to make practice tonight!”

They’re on the road only five minutes later, settled into Allison’s pink convertible, top up to keep out the winter chill. Allison, he learns, likes pop music, EDM if she can find it. He thinks she would enjoy Eden’s Twilight, but he knows better than to say anything. He’s already aware that Eden’s is Andrew’s, and he’s not willing to share.

Renee, much to Nathaniel’s surprise, enjoys country music. “You can’t get away from it in North Dakota,” she explains, leaning forward in her seat so that Nathaniel can hear her over Allison’s blaring radio. “You thought I was going to be in for the gospel music, didn’t you?”

Nathaniel shrugs, twisting enough that he can see her. “We’ve all got stereotypes. I bet you’ll never guess what I enjoy.”

“Oh that’s easy,” Dan laughs. “Come on, Nathaniel. The all-black get-up, that scowl frozen on your face. You’re either rock, screamo, or alternative.”

Renee shakes her head, and Nathaniel arches an eyebrow. “He seems more indie to me,” she says. “Something easy-going after a rough day.”

“Five bucks says that Nathaniel’s into classical,” Allison pipes up, grinning at the two girls through her rearview mirror.

Nathaniel looks between the three of them, trying to figure out why it’s so easy for them to let go and laugh and smile and just… pretend the world isn’t as horrible as it is. He’s aware that he can’t do that because of what Riko put him through, but he knows that all of the Foxes have been spit on and kicked by the world, until they were nothing, until Exy became the only thing that could get them out of the mud and onto their feet. But looking at them, he would never know.

“Allison’s right,” Nathaniel admits, and Allison whoops from the driver’s seat. “My mom played the violin, and that was the music I grew up listening to. She used to take me to symphonies when I was little, before she died.”

Renee rests her hand on Nathaniel’s for a moment before pulling away, but Nathaniel holds her gaze for a long time after.

“Nathaniel?” Dan leans a little closer, ducking her head to get into his line of sight. “Everything alright?”

Nathaniel blinks and turns to Dan. “Yeah, that’s just… the first time I’ve ever told anyone that.” He looks back to Renee, who, despite her rather small stature and her serene expression, is the most stable person in the car. Why had he just told them that? They don’t need to know that his mother played the violin. They don’t need to know that Nathaniel went to symphonies. They don’t need to know that his mother is dead. He isn’t their teammate, and even if he was, being a teammate means playing a game, not sharing personal information. He looks over at Dan, who’s giving him a gentle, encouraging look. “We… Ravens don’t do that. Ravens are there to play the game, not to make friends. We’re… they’re a team, they’re not friends.”

Except for Jean and Nathaniel. But even then, they didn’t share much. Nathaniel had given up his favorite memory, and Jean had given up his own, but other than that, they got by on the bare minimum. Jean’s favorite color is sea green, Nathaniel’s is grey. Jean likes leather jackets, Nathaniel prefers polyester. Jean wears crew socks, Nathaniel wears ankle socks. Small things, but little truths all on their own.

“Well,” Allison says, breaking the silence, “we all know how fucked in the head Ravens are – no offense. So fuck them. You’re officially our friend. And no,” she says, shooting Nathaniel a look when he opens his mouth, “you don’t have a say in the matter.”

Nathaniel makes a face, and Dan laughs. “Don’t worry, Nathaniel. We’ll teach you.”

How in the hell she understands what Nathaniel’s doubts are, he doesn’t know. But part of him is happy that he didn’t have to admit that he doesn’t know how to be someone’s friend. He’s only been away from Evermore – away from Riko – for a week, but he’s already realizing that the real world is absolutely nothing like living in the Nest.

“If you teach me that, I’ll teach you guys some Raven strategies before I leave.” He knows that’s not what friendships are supposed to start with, but he’s familiar with deals, familiar with trading one thing for another.

Renee smiles. “Still thinking about leaving?”

“There’s… no offense to you guys, but there’s nothing for me here.” He pauses. “Honestly I don’t think there’s anything for me anywhere. I’ve been a Raven most of my life, and before that I was the son of something worse.”

“You know,” Dan says, and she has her captain voice set in place, “that is the Fox recruitment standard. Misfits who’ve been given up on. Who need a second chance, or a third, or a seventh. I think you’d like it here. And you’d get to play Exy. We may not be the number one ranked college for however many years in a row, but even if we’re ranked dead last, we still get to play the whole year. And who knows. Maybe you can turn this team around.”

Nathaniel shakes his head. “Even if I stayed, you guys don’t need another backliner, you have plenty. You’re going to be down to just Seth as a striker next year, and even if he was as good as Kevin was before Riko broke his hand, that’s not enough strikers. You need two, preferably three. Hell, you guys really should have twice as many people on your team.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dan says, confident in the Foxes despite their lack of confidence in her. “We always do.”

“Say, fucko.” Allison lightly smacks Nathaniel’s forearm with the back of her hand. “This is a good song.” She cranks the radio, and both Dan and Renee protest loudly from the backseat, their hands covering their ears and smiles spanning their faces. The more Nathaniel listens to the lyrics, the more the warmth in his chest expands, until he feels like he might explode with how happy he is.

So he smiles, because strong Renee is sitting behind him, confident Dan is back there too, and carefree Allison is to his left. He smiles because Riko isn’t here and he doesn’t have to punish himself. It’s a barely-there smile, just a small lift of the corners of his mouth, but it’s there, and he’s happy, and he’s not going to get punished for it.

It doesn’t take them nearly as long to buy clothes as Nathaniel thought it would. Allison basically just held up articles, considered them, and either tossed them at Nathaniel or Renee, or she hung them back up and moved on. Allison bought Renee’s clothes, and Nathaniel purchased his own.

They return to Palmetto only fifteen minutes before practice, and Nathaniel opts to stay in the dorms instead of going with the girls to the court. Renee asks if he’s sure he’ll be okay, and Nathaniel just smiles and nods and says, very softly, “I’m fine.” As soon as he’s alone, Nathaniel curls up in the armchair, nursing a glass of alcohol – he doesn’t know what kind; it was the first bottle his fingers touched. He plays words over and over in his head, thumbs brushing over his locked phone screen. He types the message without looking down, eyes glassed over as he stares at the blank TV screen. When he hits send, he knows it’s a message that Jean will know comes from him.

_I’m alive. Delete this before he sees. -Neil_


	15. Chapter 15

Nathaniel wakes up to Jean’s reply.

_Fils de pute. –J.M._

He wants to text Jean back and tell him to not insult his mother like that. It’s such a typical Jean response that Nathaniel is tempted to respond in kind. But that’s dangerous for both of them, and though Nathaniel isn’t too concerned about himself at the moment, he’s very concerned about Jean.

Nathaniel closes his eyes, a shudder wracking his body, a remnant of the nightmare, of the cold water still clinging to his subconscious. Eventually he pushes out of bed and takes a hot shower to erase the last of his nightmare from his mind. When he’s dressed, he heads to the kitchenette to search for something to eat.

Andrew Minyard is standing near the fridge, leaning back against the counter with his nose buried in his phone. He lifts a finger in a silent command for Nathaniel to wait a moment. Nathaniel doesn’t. “Do you have a habit of breaking into other peoples’ rooms?” he asks, pushing his way past Andrew in order to go digging in the fridge. He pulls out some fruit and moves around Andrew again to start cutting it up.

“And here I thought you were good at following directions,” Andrew says, wiggling his finger at Nathaniel as he pockets his phone.

“I’m not Kevin,” Nathaniel responds, dumping his fruit pieces into a bowl before putting away what he wasn’t going to eat.

Andrew laughs. “Oh no, I’ll never made that mistake. You and Kevin are not the same person at all. Maybe that’s why I find you so interesting.”

Nathaniel can’t help but tense up. _Interesting_ isn’t a word he wants to be called, least of all by Andrew. “Oh?” is all he says, popping a piece of fruit in his mouth.

“Stop panicking, victim,” Andrew says, pulling out his phone again when it buzzes in his pocket. He checks the screen, eyes dragging over what must have been a text message, before pocketing it again. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Going to drug me again?” Nathaniel can’t help the bitterness in his tone and the sharp edge of his tongue.

Andrew flicks his fingers. “You said I didn’t have to drug you to make your mouth work. I do hope you weren’t lying to me.” Nathaniel doesn’t say anything, waiting for Andrew to get to the point. Andrew flashes his teeth in a wicked grin. “Truth for a truth, hm? You tell me what I want to know, I’ll tell you something you want to know. Back and forth until I say it’s over.”

Nathaniel contemplates. He’s not shy about his past. There are some memories more painful than others, but he can always build up his wall again. He can always block his emotions out. “Alright, what are the rules?”

“There aren’t any. Anything goes.”

Nathaniel hums a moment, nodding slowly and appraising Andrew as he takes another bite of his fruit. “Fine. Who goes first?”

Andrew’s smile widens, and he lifts himself up to sit on the counter. Nathaniel scowls but doesn’t say anything. “I do, idiot.” Andrew swings his feet, eyes narrowing on Nathaniel before finally settling on a question. “What’s between you and Kevin?”

Nathaniel’s stomach clenches and twists. “Still worried I’m out to get him?” he asks, trying to deflect the question, though he has a feeling that Andrew won’t let it slide.

“Just answer the question, fuckhead.”

There’s a bitter taste on Nathaniel’s tongue when he says, “There’s nothing between us now but abandonment and misdeeds.”

“But there used to be something more between you?”

“I don’t know.” Nathaniel flings his hands in the air and pushes away from the counter. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry, why this topic irritates him so much. He doesn’t want to care about Kevin anymore; he wants to stay angry at him forever. But they have a decade’s worth of history together, and that haunts him every night in the moments before sleep. Maybe that’s why he’s angry right now – because he knows that underneath everything, he’s aware that he won’t be able to stay mad at Kevin forever. “I don’t know what it was,” Nathaniel admits. “When we were younger, we were basically brothers – the two of us and Riko. We were a group of three. And then Jean came and it was Riko and Kevin, and Jean and me. Kevin and I were still close, but not the way we used to be. It was different. I was with Jean all the time, and Kevin was with Riko all the time. And then…”

Nathaniel stares over the half wall into the living room. It’s hard enough admitting this without looking at Andrew. Nathaniel had told Andrew that he wasn’t shy about his past, and he meant it. But Andrew had known right where to dig to make Nathaniel uncomfortable. “And then, the night before he left, Kevin kissed me.”

“He kissed you?” Andrew’s voice is a little rougher than normal, and something shivers down Nathaniel’s spine.

Nathaniel nods. “Not like the others. Not like the men Riko offered me to. I didn’t really know what to do. I didn’t think he felt that way about me. But I was okay with it. He kissed me and told me he was sorry and then kissed me again. I didn’t know what he was apologizing for until I woke up in the morning and he was gone. Riko knew I was the last person to have seen him. He almost broke my arm. I think the only thing that stopped him was how suspicious that would look to the press. What are the odds that two players from the same team would both break bones in a skiing accident?” Nathaniel sighs, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

Andrew hums thoughtfully behind Nathaniel. “That’s interesting. I’ve kissed Kevin too.”

Nathaniel spins around so quickly he almost loses his balance. He stares at Andrew in surprise, and Andrew’s smug grin tells Nathaniel that Andrew had been hoping for a response like this. Honestly Nathaniel is just shocked that Andrew can feel enough under those drugs to even want to kiss someone. “You’re shitting me.”

“I hope not. That would be a very unsatisfying delusion.” Andrew waves his hand. “I kissed him. He kissed back. Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Why?”

“Is that the truth you want from me?” Andrew asks, his shark’s grin placed firmly on his lips.

Nathaniel is tempted to bare his teeth in return. “No. I want to know why you come off your medication when you play.”

Andrew laughs, shaking a finger at Nathaniel. “Oh, you. I like you. You’re very entertaining. I didn’t think you would have noticed, what with you having a panic attack before the first quarter was over.” The goalkeeper braces his hands on the counter and leans forward. “That’s such an easy question, Raven. Wymack needed a stronger defense, so he signed me and Aaron and Nicky to help him get that. My focus is better when I’m not high as a fucking kite. So Wymack lets me off them for games.”

“That’s great and all,” Nathaniel says, stuffing his hands into his pockets and giving Andrew a pointed look, “but I know it wasn’t his idea, and you don’t do anything for free. I asked why _you_ come off your medication. This is supposed to be a truth for a truth. Stop avoiding the question.”

This time, when Andrew widens his smile, Nathaniel bares his teeth in response. “Fine,” Andrew says, and with a wave of his hand his smile shrinks a little and a dead look enters his eyes. “Fine. I come off my pills for an hour because it’s _worth it_. Do you know what it’s like to be happy all the time? Even when I’m pissed off, my body betrays me, the drugs bringing me up, up, up, higher than the fucking clouds.” He laughs. “Look, I don’t give a shit about Exy. But if that’s the only chance I have to get off my medication for a while. Coach allows it because when I’m off the drugs, all I know how to do is defend myself, and if that means smacking balls away from the goal, so be it.”

Andrew pushes off the counter and Nathaniel watches him stalk closer. Nathaniel tilts his head, eyes flickering between Andrew’s hazel irises. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it or not, I promised you the truth, and I gave it to you,” Andrew says. He lifts his arms to his sides and shrugs. “Your denial is not my problem.”

Nathaniel makes a face and taps on his own temple to get his point across. “Do the drugs make your skull thicker too? I said I don’t believe _it_.”

Andrew takes a moment, just staring back at Nathaniel. “Ohh, you mean the rumors. You’re talking about _why_ I’m on these little happy pills, yes?”

“Oh, I believe the rumors,” Nathaniel corrects. “I believe that you almost killed some people for bullying Nicky over his sexuality. I believe that your mother’s death wasn’t an accident. But I don’t believe that you’re psychotic.”

“Oh my, Nathaniel. Those are quiet some accusations.”

“You’re not denying them, though,” Nathaniel points out.

Andrew tips his head in a conceding way. “Too bad it doesn’t matter what you and I think, hm? I can’t get off this prescription for another year, so I guess we’re both going to have to deal with that.”

Nathaniel doesn’t say anything else. It’s Andrew’s turn to ask a question, and Nathaniel is feeling accomplished at getting some truth out of Andrew.

“What are you afraid of?” Andrew asks, still standing in Nathaniel’s personal space.

Right now, Nathaniel doesn’t mind how near Andrew is. Maybe because it’s Andrew, and not Riko. He’s already learning the distinctions between the two. Andrew is a protector of others – Nathaniel has seen Andrew step in between Kevin and Matt many times, has seen Andrew snap at someone for being rude to his brother or his cousin. But when it comes to himself, Andrew never gives a single fuck. Riko, on the other hand, is a spoiled dick. He has no virtues. He does cruel things because it amuses him. While Andrew also seems to do things for amusement, Nathaniel already knows it’s not the same thing.

“I’m afraid of enclosed spaces,” Nathaniel replies. “I’m afraid of strangers, and Riko, and what Riko’s doing to Jean, and I’m afraid of snakes, and drowning, and riding in cars.” Nathaniel looks at Andrew’s armbands and then touches his own knife against his hip. “And I’m afraid of knives.”

“That’s a long list,” Andrew says. He takes a moment, and even through the haze of drugs in Andrew’s eyes, Nathaniel can see him mulling it over. “Drowning?”

Nathaniel shakes his head. “That’s not a truth I’m willing to give up for free. You’ll just have to figure out the right question to ask.”

Andrew makes an amused noise. “Knives, then.”

“The Butcher of Baltimore,” Nathaniel says as an answer, and though it takes a moment, he can see that Andrew recognizes the name. “He’s my father. He taught me how to use knives. Wasn’t shy about cutting me up in order to teach me how to defend myself.” Nathaniel snorts. “And Riko, twisted fucker that he is, used knives on me. Not Jean, because Jean isn’t afraid of knives. But Riko knows what we all fear. He bought a set of knives just for me.” Nathaniel pops his last bite of fruit in his mouth and steps around Andrew to put the bowl in the dishwasher. “I’m not going to ask you anything right now,” he says, turning around to face Andrew again. “I’ll take my turn when I have a question for you.”

Whatever look had been on Andrew’s face vanishes into a smile. “Who says I’m willing to keep playing?”

“Because you still owe me a truth,” Nathaniel points out. “And because you haven’t said that the game is over yet.” Andrew shrugs as if acknowledging Nathaniel’s point, and then he turns to leave. “Andrew.” The blond turns back, eyebrows raised. “Give me my phone back.” Nathaniel glances briefly to Andrew’s pocket and then looks back up to his face.

Andrew fishes the phone out and tosses it to Nathaniel. “I’m going to solve you yet,” he says, and this time Nathaniel lets him leave.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boys night! featuring bisexual Matt

“Hey,” Jacob is already speaking as he unlocks the suite door and enters the room, “you don’t have any plans for tonight, do you?”

Nathaniel looks up from his geography homework and takes in Jacob’s drenched appearance. “No. But if you take me out in the rain, I’m not going to be in a good enough mood to do anything.” Granted, Nathaniel wants to go out into the freezing rain, just to be able to feel it. He wants to stay out there until he’s numb from head to toes. The only reason he hasn’t gone out himself is because he took out his stitches today. He’s not willing to irritate the wounds, not now that he has the option to let himself heal.

Jacob waves his hand and kicks off his shoes. “Nah, don’t worry, we’re staying in. Guys night. Monsters not invited. James volunteered to order pizzas for us, too, so we won’t even have to walk to the dining hall.”

Nathaniel makes a sound of acknowledgement and returns to his homework. “Go shower. You’re no use to anyone if you’re frozen.”

“Aw,” Jacob teases as he plods past Nathaniel. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Nathaniel opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t care, that it’s just the truth. Jacob needs to take care of his body or else he can’t play Exy, or at least won’t be able to play as well as he should. In the Nest, those were just facts. If it was cold outside and you came in sopping wet and shivering, the first thing you did was take a warm shower to get your body temperature back up and to relax your muscles. But Nathaniel closes his mouth and doesn’t say anything. He’s not at Edgar Allan anymore. The Foxes are not the Ravens. The Foxes give a damn about each other, or at least most of them do. In an odd way, he can understand why telling someone to go warm up, to put themselves first, would be a way of caring.

Sighing, Nathaniel rubs his hands over his face and closes out of his geography assignment. He opens up math instead. Math makes sense to him. There are rules and the rules always work and if they don’t then you’re fucking up and you need to start over and figure it out. Numbers don’t lie. He likes the simplicity, and he lets himself get lost in it.

At three, Matt returns from class, Raphael in tow. Matt’s usually spiky black hair is now plastered to his head. Raphael’s hair is curling from the damp. Matt dumps his bag on the ground, and Jacob laughs at him from the sofa. “Go take a shower, puppy. Raph, you better do the same or Nathaniel will get worried.”

Nathaniel grabs a pen from the side table to his left and throws it at Jacob. “Shut the fuck up, Carter.”

The other men laugh, Matt and Raphael parting ways to go take their showers. Nathaniel dutifully goes back to his geography, having finished his math about an hour ago. “I should call James,” Jacob says to Nathaniel. Or, Nathaniel assumes that Jacob is talking to him, since no one else is present. “Make sure that dumbass didn’t go drive to pick up the pizzas himself.”

“When’s Seth coming?” Nathaniel asks, clicking into a new tab to Google something he doesn’t know the answer to.

“Oh, Allison’s smarter than that. She doesn’t want you to kill her boyfriend, so she took him out somewhere away from here.”

Nathaniel looks up, brows pinched. “I thought they were fighting?” Allison and Seth had been together the day Nathaniel had been presented to the team, but the very next day they had been arguing, and Nathaniel has been assuming that they’re on the outs.

Jacob shrugs as he lifts his phone to his ear. “Don’t ask me to try and figure them out. I gave up on that a long time ago – Hey, buddy! Where are you?”

Having grown up in the Nest, where relationships aren’t allowed – just sex, and even then, going back to the same partner more than twice looks suspicious and is frowned upon – Nathaniel isn’t sure what to make of Allison and Seth. He can’t wrap his head around why two people who are obviously so volatile to each other would try so hard to stay together.

“You know they have a delivery option for a reason,” Jacob says, flipping channels with the remote. “Yeah, dumbass, that’s why you tip the drivers. You’re hopeless. Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.” Jacob hangs up and sighs.

Matt walks into the room then and sits at the other end of the sofa. He points at Nathaniel and gives him a mock serious look. “I forbid you from doing homework for the rest of the night. You are not allowed to be a party pooper just because you want to graduate high school.”

“Jesus, Matt,” Raphael says as he enters the dorm room. “Just because you damn near flunked out of every class and somehow still graduated doesn’t mean the rest of the world gets to be like you.”

“You’re just jealous that I was having a good time while you were sitting in your room studying your ass off so that you could get straight A’s.”

Raphael scoffs. “Having a good time, my ass.”

“I bet your ass is a damn good time,” Matt says with a wink. Raphael tackles him off the sofa and they go rolling on the floor. Nathaniel watches over the top of his laptop, and he knows immediately that Matt is going to win. Raphael may be built like a pit bull, but Matt has no fat on his body. Matt is all muscle, and it’s solid, lean muscle that he knows exactly how to use.

The door opens just then to admit James, who shakes himself like a dog, water droplets flying off of his dreadlocks. Nathaniel decides then that it would be safer for his laptop if he put it away. The smell of pizza fills the room, and Raphael taps out so that he and Matt can sit up.

“I need to go shower,” James says, setting the three boxes of pizza on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I swear to god, if you don’t save me at least four pieces, I will never buy you food again.”

James ducks out of the room, and Matt opens up the boxes. “What’ll you have, Nathaniel? We’ve got all meat, supreme, and… I think this one has pineapple on it.”

“Fucking pineapple,” Jacob mutters, taking a slice of all meat for himself. “Asshole knows he’s the only one who’ll eat it.”

“I’ll have that,” Nathaniel says, unfolding himself from the chair and moving over to take a slice of the Hawaiian pizza. “It’s an acquired taste,” he admits when Jacob eyes him suspiciously.

“Hey,” Matt kicks Raphael, who has seated himself on the floor so that he can use the coffee table to rest his pizza on, “fire up a game or something.”

By the time James returns, Matt and Raphael are deep in a shooting game, and Nathaniel is on his second slice of pizza. They sit like that for a while – Matt and Raphael on the floor, Jacob and James on the sofa, Nathaniel in the chair – with the sounds of the game filling up any silence that could have been had. Nathaniel listens to a conversation Jacob and James are having about the PSU football team, and occasionally Nathaniel turns his attention to where Matt and Raphael are elbowing each other for an advantage in their game.

It’s pushing seven in the evening when James finally directs his attention at Nathaniel. “So, we know you got to spend some time with the girls yesterday,” he says, closing up the empty pizza boxes. “And we know you know their histories already. They were pretty televised when Coach decided to sign all three of them the same year. So the four of us decided that we should share a little about ourselves.”

“Not like a heart-to-heart,” Raphael adds, and in the same breath he slams his fist into Matt’s thigh and gets ahead in the game. “But just to put us up on even footing, you know? We know a bit about you, and we’ve learned that you’re really private, but you don’t really know shit about us.”

“He knows about my drug addiction,” Matt says, putting a hand up in front of Raphael’s eyes to block the television from his line of sight. “I’ll start then, yeah? Fill in some blanks?” Nathaniel expects Matt to pause the game before he starts talking, but that doesn’t happen. “My dad was big into drugs, and I got into them when I was…” The backliner blows out a heavy breath. “Shit, I don’t even remember. Really fucking you- Hey, asshole, that’s cheating!” Matt punches Raphael’s bicep hard enough that Raphael yelps. “Really fucking young,” Matt continues.

“Anyway, my mom’s a boxer. Really fucking good boxer, too. She taught me everything I know. She’s where I get the freckles from, by the way. Got the curls and the skin from my asshole of a father. Not important, but whatever. I went to go stay with Mom for a summer and she sat me down and told me that she was disappointed in my choices, et cetera, et cetera. I was in high school, thought I had all the answers. But I tried sobering up for her, you know? She wasn’t around much when I was growing up, but we get on really well. She’s super supportive.

“But, yeah, Coach offered me a position, said I had to be clean. So I got clean, and I thought I had it all under control. Then the monsters took me to Columbia and…” Matt sighs. “I took everything they offered me. I knew it was too good to be true, but fuck, man, they must have dropped over a thousand easy on drugs that night. Looking back I know that I’m grateful it happened, because I haven’t even _wanted_ drugs since that night. But fuck, it was traumatic. Shattered my trust in them.”

For a while, the room falls silent. Nathaniel doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. All Nathaniel can think is that however shitty Matt’s night with Andrew and his group was, the endgame got the results that needed to happen. If a Raven had ever gotten hooked on drugs, Nathaniel is sure that they would have been treated the same. It’s a rough love, but it works. Nathaniel is positive that that input wouldn’t go over well right now, so he stays quiet.

“My turn,” Raphael says. “My story’s a shitload shorter, but relatively similar. My parents are illegal immigrants. I was born and raised in Texas. My parents tried to work for enough money to give me and my two little sisters a good education. I got into drugs when I was twelve, though I was just selling, trying to make some money for my family, to give my sisters a better shot. Some older boys – my competition – ratted me out to the cops. It wasn’t a big deal. They couldn’t find the drugs, so I didn’t get sent away, but my parents knew. And the school knew too. All of the teachers wanted to fail me out of spite. I played Exy and I did my homework, and Coach found me my senior year and offered me a position.” Raphael elbows Matt in the ribs and takes over the lead again. Nathaniel watches Raphael’s score shoot up to two hundred fifty-seven.

“Mine’s an even simpler story,” James says as if it’s a competition, and he leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands spread wide. “It’s the same story as every black kid you’ve ever heard of. Raised trailer trash, hard family life, kept shitty grades and got in with the wrong crowd, but worked their ass off in whatever sport they chose as their poison. That was me. My aunt raised me. We had the shittiest fucking house. Rats, cockroaches, you name it. Ceiling leaked when it rained, and we lived in Louisiana, so it rained fucking constantly. We had snakes in the basement one year. _That_ was fucking terrifying.”

James pulls a bandana from his pocket and uses it to tie his dreadlocks back from his face. “I’ve got a pretty typical history though. I wasn’t stupid with drugs because I needed to keep my spot on the team. It wasn’t worth getting caught, not to me. So I worked my ass off, and Coach found me my senior year, too. Offered me a spot, said that I’d make starting line by my sophomore year. And I did.”

Nathaniel could comment here, too, that James is no longer starting line, because Dan took his spot as starting offensive dealer. He wants to know how jealous he is, but he doesn’t bring it up.

Matt curses from in front of the TV, and Raphael laughs. “Better luck next time, asshole.”

“Oh you’re fucking _on_ ,” Matt says, quickly opting to play the game again.

Jacob gets Nathaniel’s attention by clearing his throat. “We didn’t choose to go from longest to shortest, but my history can be summarized in a single sentence.” Nathaniel arches an eyebrow and waits. Jacob fiddles with his thumbs before he says, “My dad killed my mom in front of me.” Nathaniel just keeps staring levelly at Jacob, waiting for him to continue. Jacob pushes his eyebrows together and cocks his head. “That’s the least amount of reaction I’ve ever gotten from anyone.” Nathaniel shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s basically it. I was ten and my grandparents took me in. I got weird looks at school, and people treated me differently. I was put on antidepressants and I lost my status as salutatorian. That sort of thing stays in your history, when you were there and could have tried to stop it. I was having panic attacks daily, because no one would ever hire a kid like me. When Coach offered me a position I just about cried. I didn’t think that there was going to be anything for me after high school. I know how naïve I was back then, but at that time… it was a big deal.”

Nathaniel makes a noise and leans back in the chair, crossing his legs underneath him. “I grew up around murder,” he says, eyeing Jacob for a moment.

“You don’t have to tell us anything,” Raphael quickly reiterates. Not like he’s afraid of what Nathaniel is going to say, but just in a way to remind Nathaniel that he’s not under any obligations.

“I know,” Nathaniel says, glancing over at him. “Regardless, I’m going to outline it for you anyway. My dad is a murderer, coldblooded. He works for the main Moriyama branch. You’re familiar with the way their family works, yes?” James nods, so Nathaniel continues. “So I grew up around it. Dad’s smart, though. I was supposed to take over from him when he was ready to retire. But he lost a lot of money, and he needed to pay Kengo, but he didn’t have the cash.

“Tetsuji found out about it and told my father that if he gave me to them, if I passed their stupid little test and Riko liked me enough to let me in, then Tetsuji would pay off my father’s debt. So I was sold to the Moriyamas, to Tetsuji and Riko. I won’t bore you with the details, but my partner – Kevin told you about the partnering that the Ravens do, yes? – my partner Jean and I were Riko’s favorite chew toys. But he wouldn’t kill us,” Nathaniel says, tapping his tattooed three on his cheek, “because he branded us as his. And because he branded us, we couldn’t leave. No one would take us. I had a chance to run when I was almost thirteen, but…” He holds up his hands and makes a face.

Matt pauses the game and turns around to face Nathaniel. The room goes deathly silent for a moment before Matt finally says, “They have video games at that shithole?” Nathaniel shakes his head. “Then get over here. I’m going to teach you how to play.”


	17. Chapter 17

On Friday, the Foxes travel out of state to a game, and they win by two points. On the bus ride back to Palmetto, Kevin tells everyone that they’re all going to have to get up early on Saturday, that he and Wymack – with a little advice from Allison – had decided to accept an offer from Kathy Ferdinand to have Kevin on her show.

So Saturday at the ass crack of dawn, Nathaniel piles onto the bus with the rest of the Foxes, chooses a seat somewhere in the middle, and promptly falls back asleep. He doesn’t wake up again until they stop at a gas station a half hour out from Kathy’s studio. Wymack gets off to fill up the bus with gas, and Abby heads into the convenience store and returns with coffees for everyone. Nicky is the only one awake enough to thank her; everyone else just sort of mumbles and takes the offered cup from her.

“Thanks,” Nathaniel says softly, watching her walk past him to the back, where Andrew and Kevin are still heavily asleep. Aaron takes his cup and walks towards the front of the bus to sit near Nicky. Nathaniel has a moment to wonder why Nicky wasn’t sitting with Andrew’s group in the first place, but then he casts the thought aside when he sees Abby hesitating to wake up Andrew and Kevin. Sighing, Nathaniel gets to his feet. “I’ve got it,” he says, handing his coffee back to Abby.

“Kevin’s not –” Abby begins to warn.

“I know.”

“And Andrew –”

Nathaniel remembers the elbow that slammed into his gut well enough that he says, “I know that, too.”

Waking Kevin up is the easy part. Nathaniel slaps the back of the ex-striker’s head and says in sharp, low French, “Wake the fuck up, asshole, you’re going to miss practice.” Kevin jerks awake, his head whipping around and his eyes wide. When he sees Nathaniel, Kevin is immediately on his feet. Nathaniel blinks. “Calm down,” he says, still speaking French to give Kevin’s brain a moment to catch up. “We’re a half hour away from Kathy Ferdinand’s studio. Drink some coffee and walk a couple laps and you’ll be fine.”

Kevin glowers. “For fuck’s sake, Nathaniel.”

“Glad to see you’re still a morning person. Some things never change.”

“Fuck you.”

“There he is,” Nathaniel says, and smiles, and it’s somewhere between a feral show of teeth and something much softer. He steps back and gestures at Abby, who holds out a Styrofoam cup to Kevin. “March,” Nathaniel says, switching back to English and prodding Kevin’s back with a finger to make sure he starts moving.

Still thinking about the last time Andrew woke up when Nathaniel was too close to him, Nathaniel opts for something safer than touching Andrew to wake him up. He tosses his phone at Andrew’s chest. Andrew comes awake like an unleashed storm, violence in his actions and anger in his eyes. Nathaniel waits, patiently, for those hazel irises to settle on him. He holds out his hand expectantly.

Andrew leans down and picks up the phone from where it had fallen to the floor. He glances at the screen and smiles at Nathaniel. “Look at you, tossing your possessions at me.”

“You already stole it from me once.”

Andrew hums and nods, looking past Nathaniel and ignoring his proffered hand. “Oh, and I see you got Kevin awake already. A miracle in its own right.”

“Fuck off, Andrew,” Kevin says from the front of the bus. Raphael snickers when Kevin passes him.

Nathaniel reaches for Andrew’s cup of coffee and hands it over. Andrew takes it and holds out Nathaniel’s phone, but he doesn’t let go when Nathaniel’s fingers close around it. “You should be careful, Nathaniel, where you throw this. Never know when you might need to call for help.”

Other than narrowing his eyes, Nathaniel doesn’t visibly react. “That sounds like a threat.”

Andrew grins. “It does, doesn’t it?” There’s a pregnant pause, during which Wymack returns. Nathaniel feels the bus dip when the coach gets on, but he doesn’t turn to look. “But you and I both know it as the truth.”

Aaron says something loudly in a language that Nathaniel belatedly recognizes as German. Andrew’s eyes flash for a brief moment, giving Nathaniel a taste of the anger the blond keeps buried deep, before Andrew releases the phone. “Kevin,” Andrew says, and he flicks his hand at Nathaniel, shooing him away.

Nathaniel retreats a couple seats, taking his coffee back from Abby and thanking her again before she moves to the front of the bus to sit behind Wymack. Kevin walks past Nathaniel and tosses Andrew his bottle of pills.

Knowing that it’s going to be a long day, Nathaniel turns around to face the front and promptly zones out.

Kathy Ferdinand is waiting for them in the lot when Wymack swings the bus into a parking space and shuts off the engine. He looks over his shoulder at everyone, says a quick, “Behave,” and steps outside. Nathaniel lets Kevin and Andrew pass him before he stands and follows them out. He doesn’t want Kathy to see him, because he knows that she isn’t stupid. She wouldn’t recognize him as Nathaniel Wesninski, but she would see the tattoo on his cheek, and with Kevin standing in the same group of people, she would easily be able to put the two pieces together.

“Kevin Day,” Kathy says with a broad smile as she shakes his hand. “It’s been too long.”

Kevin has his PR smile on full-force. “It really has, I know. But I’ve been busy,” he says, glances at the Foxes and gesturing at them briefly with his hand.

Kathy smiles, following Kevin’s quick gesture. “Yes, I can imagi-” Her eyes stop on Nathaniel.

 _Fuck_.

“Kevin? Who is this?” Kathy asks, nodding towards Nathaniel. He wants to get back on the bus. He wants to stand behind Wymack, out of Kathy’s sight. He does _not_ want to be the focus of her hungry smile.

“Oh, that’s…” Kevin meets Nathaniel’s gaze, and there’s an apology in there somewhere. “That’s Nathaniel.”

“You know, Nathaniel, I’ve imagined being introduced to you several times, but I never thought we’d meet like this.” Kathy is a shark, and Nathaniel is blood in the water. His pulse kicks up several notches. “How would you like to be a guest on my show? I can sit you down right next to Kevin.”

“No,” Nathaniel says, as much steel in his voice as he can find.

“Come now, let’s not be like that. You’ll have to do an interview at some point, anyway.”

“He said no.” Dan moves over and angles herself so that she’s a little in front of Nathaniel. “Stop trying to push him. He’s not even eighteen yet.”

Kathy scoffs. “Kevin and Riko have been in the spotlight a lot longer than that.” She looks starved, as if being the first person to get the scoop on interesting news is the only thing that can sustain her. Nathaniel is a feast. “Pity they kept you in the shadows so long. You’re absolutely gorgeous. No one would ever forget eyes like that.”

“Kathy?” Andrew’s voice is dangerous, despite how cheerful he sounds. “Nathaniel said no. Back off.”

“I’m technically not his guardian,” Wymack finally interjects, “but we agreed that Kevin should come on your show. Nathaniel was not part of that, and he still isn’t. We can all turn around and leave right now, or you can stop harassing the kid.”

“Fine.” She doesn’t look happy about it, but a moment later that frown is gone. “Let’s get you all inside then, hm?”

Kevin gets handed off to an aide and is led backstage. Nathaniel follows the rest of the team into the audience, where they have been granted front row seats. There is only a small, frail fence and twenty feet of floor space and cameras separating the Foxes from the stage. Nathaniel is seated between Abby and Matt, and he tries to relax, but being surrounded by so many people in a dark room starts making him jittery almost immediately.

It doesn’t take too much longer for the rest of the audience to filter in, and just a little after that the show starts. Nathaniel watches Kathy come on, watches her interact with the audience and the cameras, and he settles down the more he focuses on her, watching her movements and cataloguing her every step.

“Boy, do I have a special treat for you all today. It took some convincing, but I managed to wrangle a very, very important guest onto the show this morning. Please, allow me to introduce… Mr. Kevin Day!”

Kevin comes onto the stage in a sharp suit and a winning smile. The crowd roars behind Nathaniel, and the rest of the Foxes join in the cheering and the clapping. Nathaniel just tries to convince himself to breathe. On stage, Kathy and Kevin share a quick hug and some air kisses to each other’s cheeks, and then Kathy waves Kevin to sit down on the guest sofa. It takes a long time, but eventually the crowd settles.

“Kevin… Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We’ve all been worried about you since we got the news of your accident. It’s a terrible, terrible thing. How have you been?”

“Well, I can’t say it’s been easy,” Kevin admits. “But it’s nice to still be able to be around the sport, even if I can’t play it.”

“That’s right,” Kathy says. “You’ve been assistant coach for the Palmetto State Foxes for the last month. How have they been treating you?”

“Great,” Kevin says with his smile. “Coach Wymack took me in and offered me a position helping out with the team. The Foxes have a lot of talent, a lot of talent. I’m hoping to get them where they need to be by the start of next season.”

“That’s good news.” The audience applauds, filling up the room with sound enough to make Nathaniel clench his teeth. “It’s got to be so difficult for you to be away from your family, though. Riko especially. Have you two stayed in contact at all?”

Kevin pauses, and Nathaniel watches the quick way Kevin’s eyes move as he tries to come up with an answer that won’t make the Moriyamas pissed at him. “Exy is a very demanding sport, as you know. I’ve had my hands full with my new team, and Riko’s focusing on finals and, I’m sure, the championship coming up at the end of the season. There hasn’t been a lot of time to spend communicating.”

“That’s really tragic,” Kathy says, setting her hand on top of Kevin’s for a brief moment. “Let’s see if we can fix that, hm?” Kathy’s face brightens into a smile and she gets to her feet, sweeping her arm across the stage. “Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Mr. Riko Moriyama and Mr. Jean Moreau!”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank Taylor's impatience again lmao.

The Ravens’ fight song starts to play through the studio and the crowd goes nuts. There’s a disturbance down the line of Foxes, but Nathaniel can’t look, can’t take his eyes off of the men walking onto the stage. Riko looks as usual – haughty, proud, smug, but with his public face on, so all of those expressions give him a desirable bad boy vibe that the girls go for tenfold. And Jean… _fuck_. Jean has lost weight. Not a lot, but enough for Nathaniel to notice it in his cheeks, in his wrists. Both men are wearing black suits with red ties, and with the fight song still playing, Nathaniel is back in the Nest, back in his hell, in his prison that had been masquerading as a home for nearly a decade.

Kathy greets Riko and Jean the same way she greeted Kevin, and then Riko turns to Kevin. The hug they share is only awkward if you know Kevin enough to look for the signs. Kevin pulls away far paler than he was, and his hug with Jean is loose at best, shaky at worst. Nathaniel watches as Kevin all but collapses back onto the sofa, Riko and Jean seated on the other side of Kathy’s desk, facing Kevin. Nathaniel sees the only family he’s ever known sitting on stage, sees and feels so many different things that he’s not surprised when his breathing gets too heavy and too fast.

“Easy, Nathaniel,” Abby whispers, setting her hand on his leg.

Nathaniel isn’t thrilled about the touch, but he’s able to convince himself that it’s just Abby, and he’s learning, slowly, to trust her. She’s the safest person around him at the moment.

When the audience finally settles down, Kathy grins between the three men occupying her sofas. “Look at this. One, two, and four, all in one room. We’ve almost got the whole set.” Matt stiffens on Nathaniel’s left, but Nathaniel pays him no mind, too focused on the stage. Kevin is shaking and trying his damnedest to hide it. Nathaniel hates it, hates seeing Kevin like that. “How long has it been since you three have been in contact with each other?”

“A little over a month,” Riko says, eyeing Kevin in what could be mistaken as a friendly way. “It’s been a hard month. I tried sending Kevin a message a little over a week ago, but he must have changed phones, because he didn’t answer back. Did you get my message, Kevin?” In one move, Riko has backed Kevin into a corner.

Kevin nods. “I got it. I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I didn’t… know what to say.”

Kathy forms an “aw” face and the audience makes the noise for her. “Jean?” She leans forward on her desk to see him better. “How are you handling Kevin’s departure?”

Nathaniel’s fists tighten when he sees the way Jean glances at Riko. “I – we – miss Kevin desperately. We would like nothing more than for him to come home.”

It’s obvious that Riko threatened Jean to answer the question that way, to speak in a way that would let no one know what really drove Kevin away. Nathaniel bares his teeth, and his blood is rushing so loud in his ears that he almost misses what Riko says next. “Of course, he wouldn’t be able to play, not with that injury, but he’s wasting his talent at PSU. He should be the assistant coach for the Ravens, not the Foxes.”

“Are you saying Edgar Allan has a position open for an assistant coach?” Kathy asks, glancing mischievously towards the cameras and the audience beyond.

“I’m saying that we would make one available, if Kevin wanted to –”

Nathaniel has heard enough. He won’t be able to live with himself if he leaves Kevin up there to deal with Riko on his own. He won’t be able to live with himself if he passes on the opportunity to see Jean face to face. So he whistles, loud and piercing enough that it grabs the attention of everyone on stage. In less than a heartbeat, Nathaniel reins in his PR training and hops the small fence in front of him before Abby or Matt can grab him. He’ll take a bullet again for Kevin. Nathaniel is used to Riko’s wrath, and he has far thicker skin than Kevin does.

“Sorry I’m late, Kathy,” Nathaniel says, grinning as he pushes through the cameramen and hops up onto the stage. “I got lost somewhere on I440 and I must have missed my turn downtown, too. I didn’t even have time to change.” At this point, Nathaniel turns to the audience to give them a good view of the number three tattooed on his cheek. There’s a brief pause, and then the audience loses control.

Rumors of a number three player for Riko’s perfect court have been circling since Jean started playing as number four. The internet blew up with speculation, wondering if Riko was saving the number three spot for a different position other than backliner, or if Riko already had a number three, and he just wasn’t old enough to play. The latter theory had been less accepted, as the correct theories generally are.

Kathy, talented talk show host that she is, gets up without any hesitation and walks around to give Nathaniel a hug and air kisses. Kevin is the first to Nathaniel after Kathy, hugging Nathaniel like a lifeline, though it only lasts for a moment before he has to let go. Riko is next, and Nathaniel puts on the goofy grin that Riko has always hated and wraps the asshole in a loose, brotherly hug. His bravado doesn’t do anything to calm his churning stomach or his wildly beating heart, though. Nathaniel can feel Riko’s tension in his shoulders and arms, but he knows that the audience won’t be able to see it.

Jean is last, always sadly last, and their hug lasts longer and that’s okay, because the audience eats it up, some people stomping their feet and whistling. Nathaniel clings to Jean, and he can feel Jean flinch against him in pain. Nathaniel buries his face in Jean’s shoulder and allows himself one more moment, one more breath where he’s apologizing to Jean with a slow sweep of his thumb over Jean’s back.

When Nathaniel parts from Jean, he walks over to the side of the stage and lets a technician clip a microphone onto his shirt – he sends a silent thank you to Allison for making him buy shirts in any color but black and red – and then he returns to center stage and takes his seat next to Kevin.

All attention turns to Nathaniel, which was the whole point – get Riko off of Kevin, get Riko focused on Nathaniel, save Kevin because Kevin needs saving.

Riko’s gaze is ice.

“I am allowed to say your name, right?” Kathy jokes, getting some laughter from the audience.

Nathaniel grins and leans forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “You are. Last name’s a bit difficult to pronounce. Better to leave that to the game announcers, let them slaughter it for you.”

Kathy laughs with the audience. “Seriously, Nathaniel, where have you been? Why haven’t we seen you before?”

Nathaniel shrugs. “I wasn’t signed yet, so, I mean, it was a big secret, right? If someone else found out that Riko had picked me as a player, then that must mean that I’m good. So I was a big secret. Cat’s out of the box now, though. Thank you again for letting me debut on your show.”

Kathy waves Nathaniel’s gratitude away. “Wait,” she says after a moment, leaning forward. “You said ‘yet.’ That you weren’t ‘signed yet.’ Does that mean you’re signed now?”

After a glance at Kevin, Nathaniel nods. “I just signed with the PSU Foxes this morning.” Across from Nathaniel, Riko goes deathly still, and Jean looks away. In the audience, the Foxes cheer. But Nathaniel isn’t done yet. “You know, I should actually thank Riko for the opportunity. It’s because of him that I was introduced to the Foxes.”

Kathy swivels to look at Riko. “Really? What made that happen?”

Riko takes a fraction of a second before he responds. “Nathaniel was missing Kevin. We all were, but Nathaniel was the only one of us who wasn’t busy practicing, so I gave him the clear to fly out to Palmetto and see Kevin. He notified me that he wouldn’t be coming back to play for the Ravens, and it was a devastating loss, but it’s a fitting place for him.”

The gleam in Kathy’s eyes tells Nathaniel that she’s more than enjoying this juicy bit of gossip, this banter between the four men that will surely make her views skyrocket. “Why’s that? Are you saying that Nathaniel wouldn’t have had a place at Edgar Allan after all? Regretting choosing him, are you?”

“Oh no,” Riko says, because admitting that he was wrong would make everyone begin to question his decisions about his chosen few, his perfect court, from here on out. “No, I stand by my decision. Nathaniel is a top-notch backliner. Better than Jean here, if I’m honest.” Riko chuckles, and Jean manages to put on a face and smile. “But he’s not without his issues. Plus he’s young, inexperienced. He never did get on well with the other players, rebuked authority. The Foxes, and Kevin, if he stays, are going to have their hands full. Maybe they can break him of his on-court problems.”

Kathy misses Riko’s dig at Nathaniel and diverts them all back to her prepared questions, asking Kevin what he thinks of the Ravens’ performance this year, asking Riko what his plans are for the championship, teasing Kevin about his dedication to watching all of the Trojans’ games, asking Jean and Nathaniel questions about growing up in the Nest.

“We’re almost out of time, but I have to ask each of you… what is in store for your futures? Kevin, let’s start with you, since you’re technically the honored guest tonight.” Riko stiffens at Kathy’s wording, and the look on Riko’s face makes Nathaniel grin like crazy.

Kevin pauses a moment before answering, and he stares down at his casted left hand while he seems to consider his answer. “You know, Kathy,” Kevin says, and he looks to Nathaniel before finally turning back at Kathy, “this cast comes off in a week. It’s going to feel great to pick up a racquet again.”

The audience understands faster than Kathy does, and the roar is so loud that the floor beneath Nathaniel’s feet shakes. Kathy can’t rein them in. Kevin just announced on national, live television that he’s thinking about playing next year. It’s the bravest thing Nathaniel has ever seen or heard Kevin do, so he leans over and gives Kevin a hug. Kathy finally figures out that she isn’t going to be able to get answers out of the rest of them what with the audience refusing to quiet, so she says something barely audible about a commercial break and then signals the end of the interview.

Nathaniel drags Kevin out of there as fast as possible. They stop at the edge of the stage for the microphones to be taken off of them, and then Nathaniel lets Kevin lead him backstage to a spot where they can meet up with the Foxes. Jumping over the feeble fence would have been faster and easier, but there are too many rabid fans for it to be safe. Unfortunately, Nathaniel isn’t fast enough to get them out before Riko and Jean could follow.

As soon as the four of them are alone, Riko grabs Nathaniel and shoves him back towards Jean, who catches him and steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. Nathaniel knows that Jean is meant to detain Nathaniel, but he doesn’t. This close, Nathaniel can feel and hear each pained breath passing through Jeans lungs. _What did he do to you?_ But Nathaniel knows the answer to that, and it hurts him that he wasn’t there to be supportive.

Riko faces Kevin, furious, hands clenched into fists. “You dare,” Riko snarls in Japanese. “You _dare_ try to play again? For a team other than mine? You belong to me. Your game belongs to me.”

Kevin’s bravery had apparently died on the stage, because he shrinks back from Riko’s wrath.

Nathaniel is not as easily cowed. Riko terrifies Nathaniel, haunts his nightmares just as much as his mother does, but Nathaniel isn’t going to let Riko walk all over Kevin, not when Kevin looks like that, flinching and cowering the way Nathaniel used to when he was young.

Nathaniel pulls away from Jean’s loose grip and grabs Riko’s arm, spinning him around. “Leave him the fuck alone,” Nathaniel says in English, just to piss Riko off more. Nathaniel has never been smart with his mouth. “You don’t own him.”

Riko’s expression turns dark and threatening. “You. You’re supposed to be dead.”

Nathaniel shrugs. “Last I checked, I’m still breathing. You need to work a little harder to kill the son of someone who kills for a living.”

Too fast for Nathaniel to keep up with, Riko spins Nathaniel around and shoves him against the wall. He pins Nathaniel’s hands above his head, knots his fingers in Nathaniel’s hair to grind his cheek into the wall, and then leans in. From off to the side, Kevin makes a noise of protest, and Jean moves out of Nathaniel’s line of sight. “So,” Riko says softly, his mouth right next to Nathaniel’s ear, “this is what you look like up against a wall. I can understand now why even the straight men like you – from this angle you look so… what’s the word I’m looking for? The one they called you all the time. Oh, that’s right. _Pretty_.”

Nathaniel suddenly has a very hard time breathing. He widens his eyes, looking for Jean, but Jean isn’t there anymore, most likely holding Kevin back. All Nathaniel can see is the end of the hallway and Riko’s arm stretching over his head to hold up his hands. Nathaniel’s pulse is too loud, his breathing is too fast.

“Now you listen to me, pet. I own you. You’re not allowed to sign with anyone except the Ravens. You think your life was bad before? I’ll make it _hell_ for you. You are going to regret the moment you drew your first breath on that wretched campus, and every breath you’ve taken since. You are _mine_. Just like Jean is mine. You were a transaction. We paid for you. I will not let you just walk away from –”

“Riko.”

Immediately, Riko releases Nathaniel, whose knees instantly give out. He falls to the floor, still facing the wall, wrapped up in his head and his fears and his desperation to breathe. Fingers snap in front of his face, and Nathaniel manages to lift his head and take in all five feet of Andrew, standing between Riko and him.

“Get up, Nathaniel,” he says. “The team is waiting at the end of the hallway.”

Nathaniel pushes to his feet, staggers a couple of steps, but makes it to Kevin, hands knotting in the sleeve of the suit jacket Kathy had given him. Nathaniel turns long enough to catch Jean’s eye, and then he starts leading Kevin away.

From behind them, Andrew’s voice echoes. “You know I don’t like people touching my things, Riko. I don’t share.”

“Nathaniel isn’t yours. He belongs to me.”

“Yeah? Want to bet?”

Nathaniel and Kevin round a corner, and Andrew’s voice is lost. The team is just up ahead, Wymack and Abby already staring at them, James pacing in the back, Dan holding Matt, or maybe Matt is holding Dan. Nathaniel can’t keep his grip long enough to try to figure it out. He gives a shove to Kevin, hard enough to make Kevin stumble the remaining distance to the others – Abby catches him up in her arms and wraps him in a tight embrace. Nathaniel falls to his knees once more.

There are so many voices in his head that he can’t make anything out. Someone screams and he’s not sure if it’s a memory or if it’s happening in real time. There’s a shout, and that sounds more real, but he can’t focus, can’t focus, can’t _breathe_ through the hands all over him, the wall against his chest, the bruising grip on his hips, the teeth on his shoulders, the fist in his hair, the encouragement of the other men in the room, the grunting in his ear, the moans, the feeling of emptiness swallowing him whole.

His back slams into a wall and a hand closes around his throat, pushing his head back. Reacting without thinking, Nathaniel grabs the wrist holding him. The grip on his throat loosens and Nathaniel drags in a breath, and when his vision finally clears, he finds Andrew in front of him, kneeling and staring with a grin on his face. “Your attitude problem is going to be a nightmare,” Andrew says, his eyes flicking to where Nathaniel is still holding onto Andrew’s wrist.

Nathaniel releases Andrew, and he stares at the smeared blood left behind on what little skin is visible below the armbands. Confusion hits him. “You’re…?”

“Not me – you. You’re the idiot,” Andrew corrects, nodding towards Nathaniel’s arms. With Andrew’s hand still around his through, Nathaniel has a difficult time tipping his head down to look, so he lifts his arms to face level. “You are one fucked up asshole. Scratching yourself until you bleed. Pain doesn’t make you come out of it, so why do it?”

“You can’t ask that,” Nathaniel whispers. “It’s not your turn.” Slowly, Nathaniel starts coming back to himself. He remembers where they are, why the Foxes are all standing worried behind Andrew, why Kevin is still clinging to Abby. He almost loses himself again when he remembers Riko, remembers Jean, but Andrew slams him back against the wall hard enough to keep Nathaniel’s attention focused solely on Andrew.

“You’re done panicking,” Andrew says with so much confidence that Nathaniel almost believes him.

Nathaniel nods. “Go take care of Kevin,” he says, keeping his eyes on Andrew. After a very short moment, Andrew slides his fingers from Nathaniel’s neck and retreats to Kevin. Andrew says something to Abby, then to Kevin, and soon Andrew is shoving Kevin down the hall and out of the building.

With her hands suddenly empty, Abby hurries to Nathaniel’s side, and Nathaniel lets her pull him to his feet. “You all are going to be the death of me, I swear it. My heart can’t take watching you all hurt like this.” Nathaniel mutters a soft apology, letting himself be led from the building, the Foxes at his back. “You didn’t pull any stitches, did you? I’d hate to have you wreck your wounds now.”

“I took them out on Thursday,” Nathaniel says.

Abby goes quiet a moment, but then she sighs and wraps an arm around Nathaniel’s shoulders, tucking him close to the side of her body. “Oh, Nathaniel,” she whispers, and the pain in her voice cuts Nathaniel to his core.


	19. Chapter 19

By the time Wymack parks the bus in front of Fox Tower, Nathaniel’s forearms are bandaged, though he’ll just end up taking them off in the morning. He didn’t do any real damage to himself. Wymack leaves the engine running and twists in his seat to face the Foxes. “We’re having a team meeting tomorrow morning,” he says. “Nine o’clock in the lounge. I want to see all of your ugly mugs there so that we can talk about what happened this morning and figure out a way to deal with it.”

“Stay inside,” Nathaniel says, when Kevin doesn’t speak up. Everyone’s heads swivel to look at Nathaniel.

“Why?” Wymack asks.

“Because Riko’s going to retaliate. Not because of me. I didn’t do much more than come back from the dead. He might send someone after me, but that’ll be later. He has to wait for this to die down. But Kevin defied Riko, rather marvelously, and Riko is not going to take that sitting down. So stay inside tonight. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but whatever it is, it won’t be something we’re expecting.”

After a moment, Wymack nods. “Let’s go with that. All of you stay in the dorm tonight, or you’ll be benched for a week.”

“Oh _no_ ,” Seth sneers from the fifth seat.

Wymack points a finger at him. “I’ll bench you _and_ sign you up for the next five marathons.” He turns to address the rest of the players. “Now go on. Get out of here. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Nathaniel files off the bus with the rest of the team. It isn’t even afternoon yet, so when Nathaniel walks into the room, he heads to the kitchen for more coffee and a banana. After a moment’s thought, he grabs a cheese stick too. Then he curls up in the chair again and pulls out his laptop. He’s so tired of homework, of teaching himself lessons and reading through his online books. He just wants it to be summer again.

“Hey,” Matt says as he returns from his room in loose sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. Nathaniel looks up to meet Matt’s gaze. “Are you okay?”

Nathaniel tries to think of a reason that Matt would be asking. The self-inflicted scratches on his arms are nothing, and though he’s shaken from facing Riko down, it’s nothing compared to shit he’s had to deal with in the past. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathaniel sighs. “I’m fine.”

Matt looks like he wants to say something else, but he keeps his mouth closed.

From the sofa, Jacob says, “That a load of horse shit.” Turning to face Jacob, Nathaniel lifts his coffee to his lips and raises his eyebrows, encouraging Jacob to go on, curious as to what he’s going to say. “Look, we’re trying to help you, Nathaniel. We’re trying to… look out for you. To be there when you need us. We want to help. You’re obviously not okay, so don’t lie about it.”

Nathaniel calmly sets down his coffee. “Define _okay_. Define _fine_.” When Jacob looks confused, Nathaniel keeps going, tone flat and unrushed. “Where I’m from, if you can still play the game, you’re fine. You don’t even have to play it _well_. You just have to be able to hold a racquet and move your feet. That’s _fine_. These,” Nathaniel lifts up his arms a fraction, “are scrapes. This,” he taps his temple, “is normal. Panic attacks are nothing new, and they don’t keep me from playing. So I’m fine.”

“Jesus, Nathaniel,” Matt says, and Nathaniel doesn’t at all understand the hurt in his voice. “You’re not fine. You can play, sure, but you’re not fine. Panic attacks are not fine. Facing your abuser for Kevin is not fine. I’m glad you did it, but I saw you afterwards. You’re not fine. You’re as far from fine as I’ve ever seen anyone, and I’m a Fox.” Matt moves to sit on the sofa, and he braces his elbows on his knees.

“Look, I…” Nathaniel doesn’t get it. Why does him being _fine_ matter so much? Jacob says they’re trying to help, but help with what? Nathaniel can play; that’s all that matters. That’s all that has ever mattered. “Exy is all I’ve ever had,” he says slowly, trying to work everything out in his head. He’s overwhelmed. “I don’t know how to handle things that don’t inevitably relate back to Exy. You say that being fine has nothing to do with my ability to play, but I have nothing else to compare it to. What is the line between _fine_ and _not fine_? At what point do you know when you’ve crossed it?”

Jacob and Matt stare at Nathaniel in silence for a long moment. Finally, Matt says, “I want to hug you.”

“Please don’t.”

Jacob covers his face with his hands and makes a low noise in the back of his throat. “How the fuck do I explain this?” he mutters softly, maybe just to himself, maybe also to Matt. At any rate, Matt doesn’t offer up any advice. With a heavy sigh, Jacob raises his head and looks up at Nathaniel. “Let’s put it this way. Being _fine_ means that you’re content. Maybe you’re stressed about a test coming up or a game on Friday, but you’re overall comfortable and secure and… content – yeah, I think that’s the best word. _Not fine_ is being covered in stitches and having panic attacks and nightmares that wake you up every other night at two a.m.”

Matt blinks in surprise at Jacob, obviously finding the information about the nightmares new, but the striker is only looking at Nathaniel.

“In that case,” Nathaniel says, tasting each word before he lets them out of his mouth, “I don’t think I’ve ever been fine.”

“Are you sure I can’t hug you?” Matt asks, looking halfway ready to get to his feet.

There’s a knock on the doorframe that gets Nathaniel’s attention, and he turns in time to watch Nicky say, “That’s my job, Boyd.”

Matt smiles, though there’s still tension in the lines of his body. “Did Andrew finally let you out of detention?”

Nicky’s smile wavers for a moment before it’s back in full force. “I’m out on probation.”

“You looking to play a game?” Jacob asks, pointing his thumb towards the TV.

“Actually I need to ask Matt a favor. Do you think you can replace a window?”

Matt sighs and purses his lips. “Probably.”

“You’ll get paid for it. Just don’t tell any of the hall staff and get it done by tomorrow morning.”

“If you can get Andrew out of the room, I’ll do it tonight.”

“Thanks Matt!” Nicky turns to Nathaniel. “Andrew wants to see you.”

Typical. All Nathaniel wants to do is cram in as much homework as possible so that he can, hopefully, finish his classes soon and have more time off this summer. But he supposes that it was naïve of him to think he would get any more downtime here than at the nest. Nathaniel packs his laptop away and pushes to his feet. “My coffee’s going to get cold,” he mutters, taking another swallow of it before he follows Nicky from the room. Leaving the coffee behind is an old habit. He doesn’t even consider bringing it along.

Nathaniel’s eyes sweep the dorm room that Andrew and his group lives in. The layout is identical to 306, but the decoration is vastly different. The desks are in the living room, along with three beanbags and a television. There’s a gaming system hooked up in here too, but Nathaniel doesn’t have time to see if it’s the same as Matt’s or not. White fairy lights hang from the perimeter of the ceiling, and the walls are decorated with posters of things Nathaniel isn’t familiar with. Aaron is sitting on a beanbag, and Kevin is at one of the desks, bent over a book. Nicky walks through to the bedroom, and he knocks on the door before opening it. “Nathaniel’s here.”

After a moment of silence, Nicky steps back and motions to Nathaniel, who moves into the room and closes the door behind him. Andrew is seated sideways on one of the four low dressers across the room, cigarette in one hand and a broken window behind him.

“So you can lose control,” Nathaniel says, stepping further into the room to lean his shoulder against a bedpost.

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you’ve been waiting for?” he asks, raising the cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag. Nathaniel watches the smoke leave Andrew’s lips in a haze that’s slowly sucked out of the hole in the window.

Nathaniel looks from the window to the hand in Andrew’s lap. “I’m tired of only ever seeing you with a smile on your face,” he says. It’s unnerving, the way Andrew’s emotions can only be expressed through smiling. It pisses Nathaniel off that the so-called professionals who put Andrew on the medication didn’t care enough to properly diagnose him. _Psychotic my ass_. Nathaniel has only seen Andrew off of his medications a handful of times, and from what he can tell, Andrew is less stable on the drugs than he is off of them.

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Andrew asks, waving his bleeding hand in the air between them. “That’s what the drugs _do_. That’s all they do.”

“If that’s all they do, then why are you on them? It’s not like they make you any less dangerous.”

Andrew touches the tip of his finger to his nose. “That’s the million dollar question.”

Nathaniel sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He has nothing else to say, and he doesn’t want to push his luck with Andrew anyway.

Andrew finishes his cigarette and flicks it out of the window. He turns to face forward, crooking his finger at Nathaniel. “Come here, victim.” Nathaniel walks forward, keeping his hands in his pockets as he comes to stand in front of Andrew. “I’m going to make a deal with you.”

“No.” Nathaniel has had enough of broken deals and broken promises to last a lifetime.

“Shh. You don’t have a say in this. I’m going to make a deal with you, and you’re going to accept it because it’s a good deal.” Andrew pauses as if waiting for Nathaniel to say something, but Nathaniel remains quiet. “You just promised the nation today that you signed with Palmetto State. Kevin just promised the nation that he’s going to play next year. I want you to make that happen.”

Nathaniel frowns. “You want me to get Kevin back to where he needs to be so that he can play. Why?”

“Because Kevin made me a promise, too, and I intend for him to see it through.”

After a moment, Nathaniel nods. “Fine. What do I get out of it?”

“My protection.”

Nathaniel snorts. “Do I look like I need your protection?”

Something dark glints in Andrew’s eyes, and Nathaniel remembers his panic attack and Andrew helping him out of it. He remembers being pinned to the wall by Riko, and Andrew getting him out of that situation. But all Andrew does now is eye the fading yellow bruises on Nathaniel’s neck and lift up the hem of Nathaniel’s shirt to look at the barely-healed cuts. “Yes,” Andrew says simply.

“I’m still on my feet.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means everything.”

Andrew pauses for a moment and digs his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Nathaniel watches calmly as Andrew lights up. “For someone just as Exy-obsessed and health-obsessed as Kevin,” Andrew says, smoke curling past his lips as he speaks, “you don’t mind smoking the way he does.”

Nathaniel shrugs. “My mother used to smoke.”

“How’d she die?” Andrew asks.

Nathaniel doesn’t want to know why Andrew immediately assumed death rather than the chance of his mother quitting. “It’s not your turn.”

Andrew’s smile is wide and menacing. “You can’t hold onto your turn forever.”

“I’m not. I’m waiting for the right question.”

There’s a brief moment of silence between them before Andrew says, “You’re taking the deal. Now leave.”

Nathaniel turns without argument, knowing that it’s just easier that way. He stops with his hand on the doorknob, and he stares down at his fingers so that he doesn’t have to turn around to look at Andrew. “Thank you. For this morning.” He doesn’t explain which part, and he doesn’t even know if Andrew hears him, because Nathaniel leaves the room immediately after the words are out of his mouth.


	20. Chapter 20

Nathaniel wakes up close to screaming at five in the morning. It takes him forty-five seconds to remember where he is, that Matt is across the room and not Jean, that Jacob is most likely awake in the bunk above Nathaniel. Forty-five seconds to convince himself that the knife and the suffocation and the tight, tight spaces were just a dream. And then he’s on his feet and moving. He grabs jogging pants and a dark blue hoodie and pulls them on. He shoves his feet into his shoes and grabs his keys, and then he’s gone.

He stretches quickly on the steps in front of Fox Tower, and, when he feels loose enough, he jogs to the stadium. Nathaniel still hasn’t asked for a set of court keys from Wymack, so he has to break into the locker room and the storage room and the court again. He finds new gear and the racquet that he borrowed last time, and he grabs the bucket of balls again too. He has four hours until the meeting, so he takes the time to search for a set of orange cones.

By the time Nathaniel locks himself onto the court, it’s pushing six in the morning. He takes the time to do proper warm up stretches, hissing at the way his hamstrings and his Achilles tendons pull from lack of use. Once he’s good and loose, he takes laps. He’s not accustomed to running in here, and he’s not really sure how many laps would get him up to two miles, so he just guesses. He would have stepped out of the box to run the perimeter, but he’d already been away from the court for a week, and he’d been injured the last time he locked himself in here. Nathaniel doesn’t want to be outside of it for a second longer than he has to be.

Nathaniel works seamlessly through drills, counting breaths as he moves through the footwork. He imagines an opponent and defends the goal with his life. He works his legs and his feet, powering through suicide runs until his lungs are burning and his legs are shaking. But he doesn’t collapse this time. He bends over and places his hands on his knees, panting and gasping for breath, grinning like mad. Being on an Exy court, a racquet in hand, is as happy as Nathaniel has ever been, and he’s convinced that he’ll never be happier. How could anything be better than this? He has a lot of bad memories on the court, sure. He remembers several occasions where teammates were allowed to hit him with their racquets, beat him down. But even with that shadow looming, this is the only place he’s ever been able to breathe properly.

When he feels confident moving his legs, Nathaniel makes his way to the first fourth line and dumps out the bucket of balls. He stares down the court at the goal, picturing a goalie and finding himself able to imagine only Andrew. Andrew, who has the ability to be the number one goalie in the nation. Andrew, who doesn’t give a shit about Exy, who only tries because trying gets him an hour off of his medication.

Nathaniel braces his feet, scoops up a ball, and throws. The ball lands just right of dead center, only barely missing where Andrew’s throat would have been had he actually been standing there. Nathaniel throws again and again, paying attention to the muscles working in his arms. If he does that, he doesn’t even have to look at the goal to know he’s hitting the same spot, again and again until the balls are gone.

Someone pounds on the Plexiglas, and Nathaniel startles, spinning around to watch Kevin open up the door and step inside. Beyond Kevin, Nathaniel can make out Andrew, and just behind Andrew stands the rest of the team, their eyes fixed on Nathaniel.

“How long have you been here?” Nathaniel asks, his eyes flicking back to Kevin. He knows that the team can’t hear anything they’re saying, but he speaks in French anyway. It’s just them in here, and the box feels suddenly so much smaller. They haven’t talked since before Kathy’s show yesterday, and the space between those words and where they are now feels monstrous.

Kevin shrugs as he locks the door. He approaches slowly, looking Nathaniel over. Kevin easily picks up Nathaniel’s language choice. “Coach came in at six thirty. He called the rest of us. It’s about eight now.” Kevin frowns, and Nathaniel straightens his spine. “Calm down,” Kevin says, repeating Nathaniel’s words from yesterday. “Orange is a terrible color on you.” He pauses and Nathaniel stares, waiting for Kevin to say something cruel, to denounce him and push him away. “But it’s a terrible color on anyone. You look…” Kevin catches himself, his eyes flickering between Nathaniel’s. “It’s good to see you in some gear again.”

Nathaniel stands still, taking the affection from Kevin with silence as he waits for Kevin to spit out what he really wants to say.

The ex-striker drags in a huge breath and releases it slowly. “I wanted to thank you,” Kevin says. “For coming between Riko and me yesterday. You didn’t have to, and I know you didn’t want to be so close to Riko again, so… thank you.”

Nathaniel waits a moment to let the words sink into his skin, let’s them stay in the air between them a moment longer. Kevin’s gratitude is so different from his apologies because, while both are rare, Kevin always makes his gratitude hold more meaning than his apologies. Nathaniel nods, accepting what Kevin is giving him, before he says, “Andrew made a deal with me yesterday.”

“I know.”

“I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did. I’m not sure if I can.” Nathaniel says this because he isn’t stupid. Andrew offering to protect Nathaniel means that Nathaniel is part of Andrew’s group, which means he’s going to have to put up with being close to Kevin. Nathaniel has to admit to himself that it’s less “putting up with” and more of finding a way to stand next to Kevin and not think of Evermore and Riko.

Kevin flinches. “I know,” he repeats, his voice soft, his eyes downcast.

“But…” Nathaniel refrains from sighing. He looks towards the Foxes gathered by the bench, at the way they’re watching Nathaniel and Kevin together. Andrew looks bored. Dan looks like she’s already holding next year’s championship trophy in her hands. Nathaniel wants to tell her that hope is a dangerous thing, but he’s been watching Dan this past week and a half, too, and he knows that hope is one of the few possessions that Dan has.

Nathaniel tries again. “But I’m tired, Kevin. I’m tired of pushing you away when I miss you so fucking much.” He tries not to whisper, tries to keep his voice as strong and impassive as always, but he can’t stop it from breaking. “I’m tired of being bitter and angry at you when all of this is Riko’s fault anyway. Yeah, you fucked up, and I’m… I really don’t think I can ever forgive you for that. But I miss you, and I want you back,” Nathaniel says, as if Kevin had ever been his. Wishes and reality are very different things.

Kevin is silent for a long moment, his eyes wide and unsure. His right hand trembles. “You mean it?”

Nathaniel nods. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, and I enjoy even less being the one doing the hurting. And it’s hurting me too, and I can’t –” Nathaniel’s words get cut off in the tight hug that Kevin wraps him in. Nathaniel freezes for a moment, a reaction learned from too long in the Nest, but he relaxes quickly, circling his arms around Kevin’s shoulders. They don’t stay like that for long, but it’s still too long for Nathaniel, leaving his chest tight with emotions he doesn’t know how to express and the back of his throat burning with tears he doesn’t know how to shed. Kevin takes a step back and gives a curt nod, his emotions once again hidden away, before he bends down and grabs the cones.

Nathaniel follows Kevin’s lead and pushes emotion down. Right now they need to focus on Exy. When the ten cones are set up, Kevin steps back from them. Nathaniel kicks nine balls towards Kevin and scoops up the tenth in his net. He remembers this drill, and he loves it. It’s fast and brutal on his arms, but it’s satisfying and leaves his adrenaline kicking. Everything about Exy shoves adrenaline through him. He’s addicted to it. Kevin calls out numbers and Nathaniel bounces the balls off the wall and knocks over the cones as the rest of the team watches through the Plexiglas.

When he’s done, he looks to Kevin, who nods in approval. “Your muscles need to strengthen up again after two weeks off. I expect to see you in the gym tomorrow morning.”

Nathaniel grins and salutes Kevin sarcastically. He doesn’t even realize that he’s borrowing the gesture from Andrew until Kevin raises his eyebrows, pushing Nathaniel to remember.

Wymack pounds on the door before Nathaniel can work through how he feels about mimicking Andrew without even thinking about it, and the coach leans his head far enough into the court to say, “Wrap it up. Let’s get this meeting over with, since we’re all here anyway.”

Nathaniel and Kevin pick up the balls and the cones, and Andrew waits for him outside of the court, closing the door behind them when they exit. Kevin tells Nathaniel to shower, and he does so quickly. His blood is still singing from the practice, his muscles pleasantly burning. His hair is plastered to his face before he steps into the shower, and the water washing all of that away feels like heaven. He dries off with the one of the white and orange towels that are washed daily by staff, and he wraps it around his hips before walking out into the locker room. Nathaniel finds Andrew and Kevin waiting for him, Kevin seated at a bench, Andrew standing close behind him.

“What?” Nathaniel asks as he looks around for his clothes.

“Dumbass,” Andrew says, getting Nathaniel’s attention. Andrew points to some clothes that Nathaniel doesn’t recognize, folded up on the bench. “Put those on. Yours smell like a dirty locker room.”

Nathaniel scowls, but he pulls on the sweatpants that fit him almost perfectly and the hoodie that swallows him to nearly the tops of his knees. Nathaniel looks up, slowly realizing whose clothes these are. Kevin gives Nathaniel a sheepish look. “Andrew doesn’t have any clean shirts here, so you’re stuck with that, I guess. Sorry it’s so big.” Nathaniel just sighs and rolls up the sleeves – seven times – so that his hands are free. He more or less successfully ignores the way the hoodie smells like Kevin, but when he straightens, Andrew is looking at Nathaniel in a way that makes Nathaniel think Andrew knows exactly how hard Nathaniel is trying to not react to being surrounded by the smell of Kevin’s cologne.

Without confirming or denying Nathaniel’s suspicions, Andrew holds out Nathaniel’s knife, and Nathaniel takes it slowly, fully aware of the amount of trust Andrew is putting in Nathaniel to be able to hand him a weapon. “Thanks,” Nathaniel says, slipping the knife into the front pocket of Kevin’s hoodie, since it would take too long to fish under the hem if the knife was tucked against his side.

“Time to go. I don’t feel like being here any longer than necessary,” Andrew says, and he leads them from the locker room and into the lounge.


	21. Chapter 21

Nathaniel only catches the tail end of what’s being discussed between the team when he and Kevin and Andrew enter the lounge, but his stomach immediately knots when he realizes that they’re all talking about _him_.

“– how he got that good,” Dan says, staring aghast at Wymack.

“He’s been playing since he was eight, right? With the _Ravens_ ,” Matt says, glancing at Dan.

Seth, who is so unwisely ignorant of his surroundings, snorts. “Here I thought he’d slept his way onto the team.”

Nathaniel bares his teeth and sees red as he moves straight into a reaction. All he has to do is take one step and grab the back of Seth’s shirt to spin him around, and he’s able to punch the striker in the nose. All Nathaniel can think is that he’s going to kill Seth for saying that, because in a way Seth is _right_. It’s so close to the truth that it hurts, and when Nathaniel hurts, he gets violent. Nathaniel ignores the spurt of blood and the ruckus behind him as he reaches for his knife and moves to keep his promise, to gut Seth from groin to throat.

Strong arms wrap around Nathaniel’s waist and bodily lift him away halfway through Nathaniel’s swing of the knife. He sees red bloom on Seth’s shirt, knows he cut him, hopes he cut him bad enough that Seth has to sit out for a week. He only wishes he had cut Seth deep enough for it to be fatal. “Pocket it or lose it,” Andrew growls in Nathaniel’s ear. Nathaniel can hear the smile in Andrew’s words, and he hates that so much that he pockets his knife. “If I let you go, are you going to kill him?”

“I want to.”

Andrew’s arms tighten around Nathaniel’s middle. One of Nathaniel’s arms is pinned to his side, the other hangs free. Both fists are clenched, one covered in blood. “Nathaniel,” Andrew says. “Are you going to kill him?”

Nathaniel eyes the people surrounding Seth now that the two men have been separated. Allison is forcing Seth to hold his head back while she tries to clot his nose with a piece of cloth that someone had given her. Renee is looking at the cut on Seth’s abdomen, and she turns after a brief moment and shakes her head at Nathaniel – or maybe at Andrew. Matt and Dan are holding each other back again, Matt keeping Dan from rushing Nathaniel, Dan keeping Matt from rushing Seth. Both parties are at fault, and both need to be dealt with. The only player who doesn’t look worked up at all is Aaron, who, with his minimal medical knowledge, should have been assisting Allison and Renee with Seth. But instead, Aaron is seated at the sofa, his eyes steady on Nathaniel. Aaron tips his head in a very brief nod, over so quickly that Nathaniel would have missed it if he had blinked. The rest of the team is standing in various positions around Seth, wanting to show support but not knowing what to do.

Nathaniel shivers in Andrew’s arms, nightmares and memories whispering over his skin because he’s been in Andrew’s arms too long. Nathaniel shakes his head in answer to Andrew’s question, and Andrew releases him immediately. Kevin moves up beside them from where Andrew probably shoved him back, and he stands next to Nathaniel while Andrew steps in front of them. Nathaniel had been correct in thinking that standing next to Kevin would be too reminiscent of the Nest, but he doesn’t move away. Kevin must have felt Nathaniel stiffen, because he reaches out and tugs on Nathaniel’s sleeve. Nathaniel, in turn, pokes Kevin’s wrist and makes a soft noise in the back of his throat to let Kevin know he’s fine.

The commotion and the noise finally level out when Abby leads Seth away. Allison looks like she wants to follow, but Wymack calls her back. Allison only stays because Renee puts a soft hand on her arm to lend support. Nathaniel is almost disappointed to see the lack of spine. Allison should have left simply because she wants to.

“What the fuck, Nathaniel?” Wymack asks, though it lacks the bite it should have had. Nathaniel can hear the exhaustion in his voice, and he wonders if, by now, Wymack is just always expecting Nathaniel to do something stupid and dangerous. It’s only been a week and a half; he can’t have caught on that fast.

Nathaniel just blinks at the coach. “You said to give you forewarning if I was going to cut up one of your players again. I warned you. It’s not my fault he continues to be unable to shut his fucking mouth. If you think I’m going to put up with him insulting me, you’re dead wrong.”

“And you think –”

“Allison,” Renee soothes.

Nathaniel turns. “No, don’t shush her. Let her speak.” His voice is sharper than intended, but he doesn’t apologize for it.

Allison blinks at him in confusion before opening her mouth again. “I get why you’re pissed at him. Seth is antagonistic, and he’s picking on you because you’re new and you’re young. But why the _fuck_ do you always reach for your knife?”

“Because,” Nathaniel says, voice steady and calm, “when my dad taught me to fight, we skipped fists and went straight to the blade. Because when I’m backed into a corner, or when someone else comes at me with a weapon, it’s either me or them, and the knife at least lets me fight for it.”

“Seth didn’t have a weapon,” Allison argues, and Nathaniel is glad that she’s fighting back, glad that she won’t back down.

But still, Nathaniel knows that she doesn’t have any idea what she’s wading into. “Seth had his words.”

Allison scoffs and waves her hands. “Those aren’t weapons if they’re not true. We all know that what Seth said isn’t the truth.”

“Seth,” Nathaniel says with a crooked half smile, and his voice gets quieter. Kevin tilts his body closer to Nathaniel’s, and Andrew tenses. “Seth said that I slept my way onto the team. How do you think that feels, to a boy who was raped by nearly every male member of the Ravens’ rather large team?” Allison flinches, and the other Foxes have similar responses. “It’s a little too close to the truth, don’t you think? Especially when he’s implying that I wanted it.”

Nicky makes a wounded noise, and Nathaniel shoots a look his way. He’s almost surprised that Nicky is just finding this out now, that Andrew didn’t tell him while they were in Columbia. He’s almost surprised, but not quite.

Matt and the three fifth year seniors all stare at Nathaniel, their faces a mixture of shock and horror and disgust. Dan is looking between Nathaniel and Allison. Aaron, once more, remains impartial, but, once more, meets Nathaniel’s gaze with a level one of his own.

“At some point,” Wymack says, staring at Nathaniel with a haunted look in his eyes, “you’re going to learn that Seth has a mouth on him, but he lashes out because he’s afraid. And at some point, the rest of you are going to know when to shut your mouths and not push into other peoples’ private business.” Wymack sighs. “But I don’t have the patience to teach you. You’ll need to figure it out for yourselves. Right now we need to talk about the problems that the two of you,” Wymack points between Nathaniel and Kevin, “caused last night.

“Do you know how many calls I got this morning?” Wymack asks. “I’ve been awake since four answering calls from the ERC, from the board of directors here at Palmetto, from schools in our district and out of our district looking to trade their best fucking players for the two of you. And neither of you are signed to play yet. You do realize that, don’t you?” Nathaniel had realized it, of course. He had forgotten, however, that just because Kevin is assistant coach doesn’t mean he’s automatically signed to be a player. “You’re both filling out the contracts before you leave this morning. Now,” Wymack pushes the television to the edge of the TV stand so that he can sit on it. He folds his arms across his chest, and Nathaniel’s eyes catch for a moment on the tattoos on his arms. “What kind of payback can we be expecting from Riko?”

Kevin and Nathaniel look at each other. “For who?” Nathaniel asks, looking back at Wymack.

“Start with Kevin,” Wymack says.

“He’s going to make sure that I’m not going to be successful on the court,” Kevin says. “I don’t think he’d risk injuring me again. But he’s not short on creativity.” Kevin slides a glance at Nathaniel, and Nathaniel accepts it with a returned glance at Kevin.

“Aside from hurting you, what could he do to keep you from doing well?” James asks, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Kevin shrugs. “Who knows.”

Nathaniel stiffens, staring at the back of Andrew’s head, his eyes unfocused. “Switch districts,” he says softly, blinking and turning to stare at Kevin. “Tetsuji all but _owns_ the ERC. If anyone could do it, they could.”

“Would they really do that?” James asks, sounding rightfully horrified despite the fact that he’s not going to be playing for the Foxes next season.

“Yes,” Kevin says slowly. “Yes, they would. Just to make a point, they would.”

Wymack groans, and Nathaniel’s eyes shoot over to him in time to see him drag a hand down his face. “Alright, we can’t do anything about that. Is there anything we can do? Nathaniel, what’s he going to do to get back at you?”

“I’m supposed to be dead. He doesn’t like people fucking with things that he wants to happen. The easiest thing would be to send someone down to kill me,” Nathaniel says, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Jesus fuck,” Raphael says, turning in a slow circle and pushing his hands through his hair. “Christ, you’ve just been on live television. _National_ television. Don’t you think it would make them look suspicious?”

“No,” Nathaniel says. “Because I’m a liability. Not to Riko,” Nathaniel says, cutting off whatever Matt was about to say. “I’m a liability to Kengo.”

Kevin swears colorfully and mutters something that Nathaniel doesn’t quite catch. The rest of the room goes silent. Andrew turns around, putting his back to the room in order to face Nathaniel. “What?”

Nathaniel pulls in a long breath, keeping his gaze on Andrew’s face. “My father, the Butcher of Baltimore,” he starts, not remembering what information he’s shared with which members of the team and thus resigning himself to share all of it, “is not a serial killer. Not really. He’s a hired killer, and one of the rules is that his kills are supposed to look serial, to keep the cops off of the Moriyamas. He works for Kengo. He’s… he’s basically Kengo’s left hand, if Ichirou is Kengo’s right.

“Anyway, I was supposed to take over for my father, but shit happened, and my father lost money, and he sold me to Tetsuji in order to pay off Kengo. Regardless of my change of ownership, I had spent eight years raised by my father with the idea that I would take over for him, so I was and still am pretty familiar with the inner workings of the Moriyamas. I’m now a liability to their empire. Even if Riko doesn’t send someone after me, Kengo will.”

Matt swears. By the look on James’ face, he feels the same as Matt does.

Andrew’s stare is piercing, and Nathaniel doesn’t move when Andrew reaches out, quick as lightning, and grabs at the collar of Nathaniel’s – Kevin’s – hoody. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“You didn’t ask. I’m telling you now,” Nathaniel says. Andrew bares his teeth in a horrible smile, and Nathaniel stares back blankly. “I’ve thought of a question for you; you’ll get your turn soon. Let me go.”

Andrew tugs sharply on Nathaniel’s hoody one more time before releasing him and stepping back.

Wymack clears his throat. “Okay, but Kevin knows how the Moriyamas work, too. Wouldn’t he also be a liability?”

Andrew, who seems to be thinking three steps ahead of all of them, answers for Nathaniel. “Kevin is too afraid of the Moriyamas to say anything, and they know that. Nathaniel has an attitude problem and enjoys holding on to grudges.” This time when Andrew flashes Nathaniel a deadly smile, Nathaniel returns it.

“So… they’ll what?” Allison asks, her arms folded, hiding most of Seth’s blood on her shirt. “Kill you?”

“If they can,” Nathaniel replies, eyes still locked with Andrew. Andrew gives him a single, slow nod. Oddly enough, Nathaniel trusts that wordless answer. Andrew made Nathaniel a promise, and Andrew is going to keep it, even if he’s pissed about not getting this information up front.

“Great,” Wymack says. “Great. Nathaniel and Kevin, get your asses over here and sign these contracts. Everyone else, get the fuck out of here.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tired so hopefully there aren't any mistakes in this

On Monday morning, Nathaniel wakes up a Fox. He goes to the gym with the rest of the Foxes, looking around the room before he walks over to where Matt is beating on a punching bag, and Nathaniel asks Matt to teach him. Nathaniel’s arms are still burning by the time they get to practice that night, but he outruns everyone during laps and outsteps everyone during drills.

On Tuesday morning, Nathaniel wakes up shaking and gasping and choking at two in the morning. By two thirty, he’s running around perimeter road – one lap, two laps, three – until he just can’t run anymore. He returns to Fox Tower and crawls back into bed. Above him, Jacob rolls over and lets out a sigh. Nathaniel feels guilty for waking him up, but he doesn’t know how to prevent that. Jacob seems to be as light of a sleeper as Jean and Nathaniel are.

Nathaniel wakes up again a few hours later to go to practice with the Foxes.

“You realize you don’t have to practice with them, right?” Wymack asks when Nathaniel steps into the weight room. “You’re technically not on the team until this summer.”

“I know,” Nathaniel says, his eyes already fixed on the punching bag and Matt standing beside it. “But I’ve spent enough time away from practice as it is.”

Wymack mutters something about Nathaniel being as bad as Kevin, but Nathaniel ignores it in favor of walking up to Matt. He catches Andrew watching him for a moment, but when Nathaniel turns to look, the goalkeeper is looking away. Kevin, however, is staring. Nathaniel jerks his chin up to let Kevin know that he sees him, and then he turns around and starts through the motions Matt taught him yesterday. They switch after five minutes, and when Matt is done, they move to do squats. Matt is way outside of Nathaniel’s weight class and can lift significantly more than him, but Matt is easy-going and relaxing to be around, and he doesn’t seem to at all mind being partners with Nathaniel.

From the gym, the Foxes split up, some of them heading off to early morning classes, most of them returning to the dorms for some cooling off and maybe for a nap before their later classes. Nathaniel makes the walk back with Kevin at his side, Andrew gone off to his morning classes.

“What’s with the sudden interest in the punching bag?” Kevin asks, hands in his pockets as he sweeps his gaze around campus. There aren’t many students around at this hour, many preferring to take later morning classes. Nathaniel’s eyes are on Aaron and Nicky walking ahead of them, both deep in a conversation in German. Nathaniel finds it weird being on the outside of a conversation, unable to understand what’s being said. Nathaniel has found that Nicky is terrible at hiding his emotions, but Nathaniel can’t read Aaron at all. Andrew is easier to understand than Aaron is, at least to Nathaniel. And he can’t make out or even guess at a conversation that he can only understand a portion of through Nicky’s reactions. Kevin elbows Nathaniel’s side. “Hey. Were you listening to me?”

“Yeah. The Nest didn’t have one.” Which isn’t the whole truth, but it isn’t a lie, either. The Nest had their own weight room separate from the general campus weight room open to all students, so there was no equipment that didn’t have something to do with Exy. Palmetto can’t afford that, so the Exy team has to share with the other Foxes on campus. Nathaniel blinks and turns to look up at Kevin. For a moment, he almost doesn’t think he’s looking at Kevin, at least not the Kevin he knows. Sure, the features are the same – the bright green eyes that never fail to hold Nathaniel captive, the thick dark eyebrows that always make Kevin look more serious than he is, the perfect cupid’s bow and full lower lip, the number two tattooed on his cheek. But Kevin’s expression is softer now than Nathaniel has almost ever seen it. “What?” Nathaniel asks, and he hates that he finds himself breathless, because he shouldn’t be. It’s just Kevin. _It’s just Kevin_.

Kevin hums thoughtfully, pulling the door to Fox Tower open and stepping inside. “Nothing important. I just never thought I would ever see you outside of the Ravens. I’m still getting used to you being so different, _wanting_ to be so different.”

“I could say the same.” Nathaniel ducks past Kevin on the stairs and twists to grin at him. “But the orange looks good with your eyes,” he says, and then runs up the stairs to his room.

He locks the door behind himself and stares across the living room to the window, the smile wiped from his face. _Fuck._ He hates this, this wanting things he can’t have. Nathaniel told Andrew that things had changed between Kevin and Nathaniel when Jean joined the Ravens, and that’s the truth of it. Both of them hit puberty. Nathaniel noticed that Kevin was looking at the boys and the girls on the team. Kevin noticed that Nathaniel only ever looked at him.

Nathaniel paces into the room, fists clenched. He wants to hit something but he’s not willing to injure himself. He wants to slam all the doors but he doesn’t want to grab the attention of the girls, who, living next door, would definitely hear him. He goes into the bathroom instead and starts the shower. He’s alone, alone with his thoughts.

Kevin was always something Nathaniel couldn’t have, and they both knew it. Relationships weren’t allowed in the nest, and even if they were, Kevin belonged to Riko, and Riko passed Nathaniel around to all of the other men on the team. Kevin didn’t know, and by that point, Nathaniel was so numb to it that he didn’t care anymore. He wanted Kevin, but he couldn’t have him.

Nathaniel hits his palm against the shower wall just once, hard enough to make a sound, to send a shock through his arm. He’s not angry at Kevin. He’s angry at life for being so unfair and at himself for being so broken.

He can’t have the only person he’s ever wanted, because Kevin belonged to Riko and now he belongs to Andrew. Besides, now that Kevin knows about Nathaniel’s past, there’s no way that Kevin is going to want Nathaniel, anyway.

Maybe that’s for the best, though.

By the time Nathaniel gets out of the shower and dresses in something more comfortable – he considers Kevin’s hoodie, which he still hasn’t returned to him, but in the end thinks better of it – Nathaniel’s anger has faded and been replaced by despondency. He makes coffee for himself and returns to the living room to do homework. Loneliness presses in on him as it usually does when he’s alone, it just feels more prominent today. He sips his coffee and does his composition homework and pretends to ignore how many hours he has alone until Jacob returns from his last class of the day.

Surprisingly, it’s Matt who returns first, two hours earlier than usual. “Hey, buddy,” Matt says as he swings the door shut behind him. “You alright? The door was locked.”

“Fine,” Nathaniel says, hardly sparing a glace at Matt despite the immediate ease of the tightness in his chest.

Matt dumps his bag and kicks off his shoes before heading into the kitchen. “I thought we talked about this. What’s up?”

At the sound of clanging pots, Nathaniel finally looks up from his computer. He watches Matt move about the kitchen, and though the half wall blocks most of the actions from sight, Nathaniel pieces together that Matt is filling up a pan with water and boiling it. Remembering Matt’s question, Nathaniel replies, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you.”

“I’m just…” Nathaniel pauses to heave out a huge sigh. “I’m just lonely. In the Nest I was never alone. Jean was always there, constantly. We had a line of sight rule put in place by Riko, so Jean and I… we were always in the same room. I’m not used to being alone.”

Silence fills up the space after Nathaniel finishes speaking. The only interruptions are the occasional sound of Matt stirring whatever he dumped in the pot, and the crinkling of a package. Eventually Matt enters the living room with two plates, and he hands one to Nathaniel before taking a seat on the sofa. Matt takes a bite, which prompts Nathaniel to do so as well, despite the fact that he was never allowed to eat mac and cheese while in the Nest.

“You know,” Matt says after he’s swallowed, “you’re allowed to come to us with your problems, right? You’re allowed to talk to us and tell us what’s going on. It’s not that hard for one of us to swing by between classes.”

Nathaniel stares down at his plate, pushing the macaroni around with his fork. “I didn’t want to be –” Nathaniel stops himself before he can say _punished_. When he glances up, Matt is staring at Nathaniel as if he knows, and Nathaniel flinches and looks down at his plate again. “I didn’t want to bother anyone. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Matt blows out a long, soft breath. “No one here is going to hurt you. Seth’s a dick, but he’s not going to start a fight with his hands. I know from Renee that Andrew took you in, too, so honestly the only reason someone would hurt you would be if they had a death wish. But really, Nathaniel, we’re not like that. We all get it, we’ve all been in shitty places, beat down by the world and kicked in the ribs when we tried to get back up. Not as bad as you, no, and we don’t understand what that was like. But we can’t help you unless you talk to us.”

Nathaniel takes another bite of the macaroni. Instead of responding to Matt, he says, “The last time I had mac and cheese, I was seven years old. I don’t remember it tasting this good.” He glances up after a moment, checking to see if Matt is upset about Nathaniel changing the topic or not.

Instead, Matt is smiling softly. “That’s because I make the _best_ macaroni and cheese. You’d be hard-pressed to find better.”

“But it comes from a box,” Nathaniel says, slipping a teasing edge to his voice. He’s grateful for the distraction, grateful for Matt allowing it. “Wouldn’t it taste the same as all the others?”

Matt, for his part, looks offended. “Oh, my dear Nathaniel. You make a box next time and tell me that mine isn’t better.” Nathaniel snorts, but he agrees anyway. They finish their plates in silence, and Matt stands up to take their plates into the kitchen. “By the way,” Matt says, looking out at Nathaniel over the half wall. “If you want me to teach you how to fight, there are better ways than using the punching bag.”

Nathaniel ducks his head at being found out. “You’d really teach me?” he asks, voice suddenly soft and hesitant and hollow. “Even knowing how dangerous I am?” Matt hasn’t even seen everything. He hasn’t seen Nathaniel cut up small animals under his father’s tutelage. He hasn’t seen Nathaniel nearly kill a man under Riko’s orders. He hasn’t seen Nathaniel stab a man in the throat because he came up behind Nathaniel too fast and too quiet. No, Matt hasn’t seen everything, but he’s seen Seth, and he’s heard about Nathaniel’s past. That’s enough to know.

It’s enough to eat at Nathaniel every day, to make him wonder what would happen if one of the Foxes snuck up on him, and he reached for his knife and reacted without thinking.

The silence pounds against Nathaniel’s eardrums and Nathaniel is positive he’s said something wrong, that this is where the ball drops, this is where his luck runs out. But soon footsteps are padding over too him and Matt crouches down in front of him. When Matt’s finger catches gently under Nathaniel’s chin, he jerks away, trying to hide the emotions he knows are showing on his face. Grief, insecurity, doubt. Emotions are a weakness. Showing emotion around Riko, around his father, always made it hurt worse. He’s been trying to teach himself for years how to shut down his expression to show nothing, but emotions are something he’s never been able to completely master.

“Nathaniel.” Matt’s voice is soft. “I don’t think you’re dangerous. Not to me, and not to the rest of the Foxes. Okay, maybe to Seth,” Matt concedes, “but Seth deserves it for running his mouth.”

Nathaniel’s chin wobbles, and he stares intently at the wall, hoping the focus will keep his tears from falling.

Matt hesitates again. “I want to teach you how to fight,” he says, “so that you don’t reach for your knife first.”

That’s the trigger that sends Nathaniel over the edge. The tears fall freely and his throat hurts from the effort of not letting go of his sobs. Matt doesn’t know that Nathaniel is afraid of knives, he only knows that Nathaniel is deadly with a sharp object in his hands. But nothing else could have made Nathaniel break like this. Even if Matt doesn’t know, it means everything to Nathaniel to be offered the chance to think of his fists first and the knife second. When he punched Seth, it was because Nathaniel wanted to break his nose. He still went for the knife to finish the fight, to finish Seth. Matt is offering him a way out, and Nathaniel can’t even come close to describing how that makes him feel.

“Can I hug you?” Matt asks, voice more hesitant than the last time he said those words.

This time Nathaniel nods, and he leans forward and all but falls against Matt’s shoulder. Matt holds him carefully but completely, and it’s not stifling but instead secure. Nathaniel hasn’t cried in years, and he realizes right now that this is the only place he would have ever let himself cry. This college, this dorm, this room, these arms. Matt’s arms. Matt who is solid muscle, who shouldn’t be comfortable at all, but who is built enough like Jean that it feels like coming home.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thus begins my inability to post every day
> 
> sorry guys, but my schedule is going to be very very slow starting basically now

At seven in the evening, Andrew knocks once on the open door of the suite Nathaniel shares with Matt and Jacob before stepping inside and staring at Nathaniel. Nathaniel looks up, unimpressed and fully recovered from his breakdown earlier, and meets Andrew’s gaze. “Going somewhere?” he asks, flicking his gaze to Andrew’s coat and shoes.

“We are,” Andrew says, and turns around without another word, rightfully assuming that Nathaniel will simply follow.

After pulling on his shoes and coat, Nathaniel waves to Matt and Jacob and Raphael and leaves the suite, closing the door behind himself. Andrew is standing down the hall by the stairs, and when he catches sight of Nathaniel, Andrew disappears. Nathaniel sighs but follows Andrew up the stairs to the roof, the door left open behind Andrew.

“Why are we up here?” Nathaniel asks, pushing the door closed to keep the warm air in and the cold air out. The sun set two hours ago, and already the winter chill has seeped into the thin night air, turning Nathaniel’s breaths into puffs of fog and making him stuff his hands into his coat pockets to keep his fingers from numbing.

“You have a question, and I have an answer,” Andrew says from where he’s seated at the edge of the roof, feet hanging over the edge. Nathaniel steps over to where Andrew is and looks over the side at the parking lot four stories below. “I wouldn’t do that. It would be so easy for me to just push you off,” Andrew warns around lighting a cigarette.

Nathaniel hums and sits down on the edge, his thigh a couple of feet away from Andrew’s. His heels kick the side of the building as he swings his legs. “I’d just drag you with me. Good way to go if you’re looking to complete a murder-suicide.” He looks down again, at the bushes up against the building that are currently bare of leaves. “It’s a survivable distance, though. Would really suck if you ended up paralyzed just trying to kill me.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything, and in the following quiet Nathaniel can hear him drag on his cigarette and slowly blow out the smoke. It takes Nathaniel a few more moments of staring at the parking lot before he asks, “When were you assaulted?”

Andrew answers too quickly. “I wasn’t assaulted.”

“When were you raped, then?” Nathaniel clarifies, turning to stare at Andrew. “Because I’m not blind. You attacked Nicky before I told you what happened to me. And I saw you on Sunday. If I hadn’t gotten to Seth first, you would have.” It had taken Nathaniel too long to piece everything together, to understand Andrew and the motives driving him. Considering how on top of everything Nathaniel has been so far, it’s annoying that this one obvious thing about Andrew has eluded him until recently.

“Maybe I’m just a nice guy,” Andrew says. Nathaniel gives him a flat stare, which Andrew returns with a scowl. More silence, more foggy puffs of breath and smoke drifting from cold lips to fade away in the artificially-lit half-dark of the night. “I was younger than you, the first time,” Andrew says after a while.

“It isn’t a competition,” Nathaniel says, not unkindly.

“No,” Andrew agrees, taking another drag of his cigarette before throwing it off the roof despite it not being even half gone. He fishes for his pack again and lights up another, only to stub that one out too. Silence envelops them, and Nathaniel does nothing to pressure Andrew into speaking, knowing that it’s not as easy for everyone to just lay out their troubles. Jean never wanted to talk about his abuse, so Nathaniel had obliged and never spoken of it or tried to pressure him to talk. Then again, they both witnessed each other’s abuse, so there was really no need to speak of it.

“I was seven,” Andrew says, taking the stubbed out cigarette from where he had dropped it on the roof, “the first time.” Nathaniel watches Andrew’s fingers slot around the cigarette, the butt perched between the first and second knuckles. Andrew doesn’t make a move to light it. “I was sixteen the last time it happened.” This time, Andrew relights his cigarette and takes a long drag that he holds in his lungs for a moment before letting out.

“Different families?” Nathaniel asks. Riko had taken a special interest in Andrew when Kevin had, and Riko was very good at research. Nathaniel heard about Andrew through Kevin, while Kevin was still at Evermore, so Nathaniel knows that Andrew grew up in the foster system, abandoned by his mother.

Andrew nods, flicking ashes over the edge of the roof and tipping his head back to smile at the barely-visible stars. “Four. The last one… oh, he was interesting. The worst, the only one that matters.”

Nathaniel doesn’t press, because he knows that if Andrew feels like that is part of the truth he owes, he’ll go on. If he feels that it’s just extra material, he’ll stop. Indeed, Andrew finishes his cigarette in silence and turns to Nathaniel once he has flicked the butt to the sidewalk below.

It seems to take a moment for Andrew to settle on a question, and in that moment, Nathaniel is strangely satisfied at making Andrew curious enough that the large truths Nathaniel has handed out for free are simply not enough. Nathaniel has never been one for shying away from the truth. Lies are damaging, especially in the Nest, around Riko, where they are punishable. Nathaniel saves his lies for his partial truths. Lying by omission was the most dangerous game he was ever willing to play with Riko, and that habit, that strange sense of power when he got away with it, has yet to release its hold on Nathaniel.

“How did your mother die?”

Nathaniel jerks back at the question, his pulse jumping and his eyes widening. It’s a question Andrew has asked before, but it’s a topic Nathaniel never wanted to delve into with anyone. He takes a slow, deep breath, trying hard not to shiver as a cold breeze washes over him and brings to mind the freezing water that soaks him in his dreams. “She drowned,” he finally whispers, eyes closing, hands fisting at his sides.

Andrew hums. “That explains a phobia.” Nathaniel can hear Andrew shift around, but he doesn’t open his eyes to look. “How did it happen?” It’s not tenderness that prompts Andrew, but curiosity.

Nathaniel tries to swallow but his mouth is dry. Telling this particular truth isn’t like telling the others – Nathaniel can’t distance himself from this. Riko’s knives, the rapes, his father, the assaults by the Ravens on the court… those are easy for Nathaniel to slip away from, to build his wall and keep himself steady. But not this. This is too close, too personal. He had loved his mother too much.

“We were driving home from somewhere, I don’t remember,” Nathaniel starts, opening his eyes and staring down, down, down at the concrete below. “It was dark and storming. Heavy rain. We were on a small highway and I was in the backseat.” He stops for a moment, both to steady himself and to think of how to explain. “All I remember is the car swerving and rolling. I hit my head against the door and blacked out. When I woke up, the car was on it’s side and I was all but hanging by the seatbelt. The car was crushed around me. Mom was already dead by that point, drowned in the river overflowing into the ditch.”

“So that explains the fear of drowning, riding in cars, and claustrophobia,” Andrew ticks them off on his fingers as he says them.

“No,” Nathaniel says, shaking his head. “Not the claustrophobia.”

“Do I get that one for free?” Andrew asks, and Nathaniel can hear the smile in his voice.

“Why do you want it?”

“I told you. I’m trying to solve you.”

Nathaniel sighs. “I’m not an equation with numbers and rules that always work without a fault. I’m more like a fucking English paper with four ways to place citations and eight ways to incorporate quotes and a million grammatical rules that each have at least a thousand exceptions.”

“And yet,” Andrew says, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it, “I’m going to figure you out anyway.”

“Then I’m not going to make it easy for you. So no, it’s not free.”

Andrew laughs, and for the first time, it’s not a manic sound. To Nathaniel’s ears, it sounds as close to sincere as Andrew can probably manage to get on his drugs. Nathaniel wants to hear it again, but he knows that interacting like this with Andrew is like dragging a knife across your skin – one wrong move and you can get sliced open.

So Nathaniel changes the topic. “Why is Nicky still not talking to me?”

“Because I told him that if he gets anywhere near you unless I ask him to, I’ll gut him. He needs to learn.”

“He was just doing what you asked,” Nathaniel says, grabbing a pebble from the rooftop and tossing it into the parking lot.

“No,” Andrew says sharply, like a wolf snapping its teeth together in warning. “I told him to keep an eye on you and to get cracker dust into your system if he could. I did _not_ tell him to shove his tongue down your throat.”

A sigh leaves Nathaniel’s lips, and he pulls up a knee, his gaze now sweeping the buildings across campus. He’s not going to tell Andrew how to handle Nicky, but he wants to tell Andrew to stop defending him. There’s a difference between protecting and defending, and Nathaniel doesn’t need or want Andrew to cross that line.

“Leave,” Andrew says rather suddenly, startling Nathaniel.

“What?”

“You’re about to say something stupid. Leave before I change my mind about pushing you off.”

Nathaniel doesn’t think arguing or fighting back is worth his time, so he gets to his feet and brushes off his pants. He turns to leave, but he only makes it halfway across the roof before he stops and twists around. “Andrew?”

“You have terrible survival instincts.”

Nathaniel ignores that comment and barrels on. “You don’t have to give me an answer if you don’t want to. This isn’t part of the game.” Nathaniel pauses, waiting for Andrew to say something else, to snap at him to go away or to laugh at him for being stupid. When nothing happens, Nathaniel asks, “What would it take to get you off of your medication early?”

Andrew drags his cigarette, and Nathaniel watches the way the weak light casts brief shadows over Andrew’s face. Andrew flicks the butt away and seems to watch it fall for a long moment. “Something extreme,” he finally says, to which Nathaniel takes his leave of the roof.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do _not_ have the next chapter finished yet, but I've had this written up for a while and I always feel bad when I leave you guys waiting. I realize it's only been 10 days but it still feels like forever. So here's this. Now I'm going to start rereading this and take some better notes on it as I go, and then I'll be able to keep writing. 
> 
> Also, fun thing. This is where things _really_ start getting away from canon. Like really really.

The problem with practicing with the Foxes is that they aren’t as good as the Ravens. It’s over a week later on Wednesday night and Nathaniel has been practicing with the Foxes since last Monday, and he’s _bored_. He looks behind him at Andrew, who is standing loosely in front of the goal, his arms hanging from the racquet he has thrown over his shoulders. Nathaniel thinks he finally understands why Andrew never tries during practices. There’s no point when you’re better than everyone else on the team. It’s boring.

“Wesninski! Stop standing around!” Dan shouts from the other side of the court.

Nathaniel throws his arms out and turns to Dan. “What’s the point? I mean, no offense at all, but there’s a reason you’re last ranked. Your biggest problem is your lack of uniformity, but you’re also not good enough.” He can feel the words cutting the people around him, who have all come to a stop since Dan yelled at him, but he plows on anyway. “I just dropped from the first-ranked team to the last. I’m bored, Dan. Your strikers aren’t good enough to get past me. Your backliners aren’t good enough to keep up with me.”

“What the fuck did you say?” Seth demands, stalking closer. He nose isn’t broken, unfortunately, and the cut Nathaniel had placed on his abdomen has already healed just fine. “You think you’re so much better? Why don’t you switch places, hm? I think you’re just cocky and full of shit.”

Nathaniel leans on his racquet, arms folded across the top of the net. “Is that so?” His voice is deadly in a sugary sort of way. He smiles, tilting his head back towards the goal. “How about we find out. You and me. We’ll make this a friendly little competition. First person to five goals wins.”

“Nathaniel –” Dan starts to warn, but Seth cuts her off.

“Oh, you’re on.”

“Matt, Aaron. Feel like defending the goal?” Nathaniel asks, looking around Seth to find where they’re standing. The other backliners look unsure, but they both eventually shrug and get into there positions. “Which one do you want, Seth?” Nathaniel gestures with his borrowed racquet between Matt and Aaron.

Wordlessly, Seth, who has the height advantage, moves to stand in front of Aaron. Nathaniel grins and walks over to Matt.

“Don’t start any fights,” Matt says.

Nathaniel waves him off. “This is nothing. Just proving a point.”

Kevin, who has been cast-free for almost five days now, pounds on the door and throws an extra ball to Nathaniel. Kevin hasn’t dared to practice yet, not wanting to test the strength of his hand. Nathaniel has made sure Kevin is in the weight room exercising, but hasn’t pushed him to hold a racquet yet.

Allison passes the ball in her racquet to Seth. At the goal, Andrew still looks bored, his racquet still over his shoulders. Nathaniel isn’t fooled. He can see the spark of interest in Andrew’s eyes. From somewhere behind Nathaniel, a whistle is blown, and Nathaniel and Seth both shoot forward towards the goal.

Matt puts up a fight, but with Nathaniel’s speed it’s just a matter of time before Nathaniel breaks through, and he does so way before Seth. Nathaniel shoots, and it’s a perfect shot, but Andrew, who hasn’t even moved up until now, suddenly has his racquet in his hands and deflects the ball all the way to the other side of the court.

Aside from the ball impacting the opposite wall, there isn’t a sound in the court. Nathaniel shoves his grin down. “Dan, pass me the ball!” Nathaniel turns to Seth. “You seem to be having some trouble getting around Aaron. Wanna switch?”

“Fuck you,” Seth spits.

Aaron laughs and retakes his stance, for once looking like he’s having a bit of fun.

Nathaniel shrugs at Seth and catches the ball Dan throws to him. They reset and start again. Again Nathaniel gets past Matt first, and he moves to score, and again Andrew blocks it. But this time, Seth is only a step behind Nathaniel after finally managing to get around Aaron, and he moves to score, but Andrew recovers quickly and blocks Seth’s shot too. At this point, Kevin is openly staring, and none of the others are hiding their amusement and interest either. Nathaniel challenges Seth again and again.

By the fifth run, Seth is slowing. Andrew snarls something in German at Aaron, and instead of responding, Aaron widens his stance and adjusts his grip on his racquet. Nathaniel is about to ask what’s going on when Andrew barks at Matt, “Boyd, start pivoting more and stepping less. And for fuck’s sake, hold your racquet lower.” Matt grins at Nathaniel, and Nathaniel smiles back, all predator, all teeth. When the whistle blows again, Matt is finally a challenge. Nathaniel, not trained as a striker, relying only on his speed, suddenly has a much harder time getting around his tall friend.

Friend. Is that how he thinks of Matt?

Gritting his teeth, Nathaniel spins and checks Matt’s arm as he shoulders past, lunging for the goal. It’s a great shot, but Andrew is a better goalkeeper than the Ravens’, and the shot is blocked and hit all the way down, just missing James’ head.

“Alright, that’s it,” Dan says, walking up when it becomes evident that Aaron isn’t going to let Seth anywhere near the goal. “You’ve made your point, Nathaniel.”

Seth glares at Nathaniel. “Doesn’t matter how quickly you can get around your mark, rookie, if you can’t score.”

Nathaniel takes a moment to think how funny it is that he’s being called a rookie despite having been around the sport far longer than Seth. He shrugs. “That was the point.” Seth blinks at him like Nathaniel is stupid.

Nathaniel decides not to waste his breath on Seth and instead looks back at Dan. “Next year you’re going to have three Class I players on your team.” Nathaniel gestures at Kevin. “One of them is recovering from a broken hand, one of them doesn’t give a fuck,” he points to Andrew, “and then there’s me. Kevin is starting from the ground up, but he’s still going to be better than the rest of you.” Nathaniel waits a breath for Dan to take in what he’s saying. “I’ve been here for two weeks, and I already know that Andrew doesn’t practice. He does the laps and the drills because that’s required, but he doesn’t participate in scrimmages. You know why? Because he’s bored. Because he’s better, and you’re not giving him a challenge. I’m not speaking for him, because I know he doesn’t care about the game. But Dan… with the way you all are playing, you’re at Class II level and no better.

“Wymack makes a point of signing only people who need a second chance, but what the fuck good is that if none of you care enough to make a difference? I know you’re not Ravens, I know your lives don’t revolve around Exy, but Jesus Christ. All of you can give so much more than this. And this is going to sound selfish as all hell, but I am not playing with you and your team if you cannot start playing like you give a shit. I will transfer to the Trojans before you can say ‘wait, we’ll be better.’”

Dan, who Nathaniel doubts has ever been humbled in her life, stares Nathaniel down for a long, silent moment. Finally she says, “What do we need to do to get better?”

Nathaniel points at Kevin and crooks his finger to gesture him over. When Kevin is beside him, Nathaniel says, “I’m thinking fuck practice and spend the rest of the season on drill work. Think that would work?”

Kevin grunts and looks out over the court at all of the players. “I think that would be a good start. You willing to lead them through it?”

“You’ll be back on the court on Monday,” Nathaniel says.

“Yes, but I’m over a month out of practice. I’m not going to fair very well either, at least not right away.”

Dan looks between the two of them. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not?” Kevin asks. “You’re not going to forget how to play the game. Nathaniel’s right. You’re not a Class I team. Wymack managed to hold onto your status for you because Andrew agreed to actually do his job well enough to build up the defense. You need to earn your spot now.”

Dan clenches her jaw, but she nods. “I’ll bring it up in the meeting afterwards, alright?” Kevin nods and walks off. Nathaniel follows. “Where are you going, Wesninski?” Dan calls after him.

“To shower,” Nathaniel says over his shoulder. “There’s about as much point keeping me out here as there is keeping Andrew out here.” And with that he steps out and lets Kevin close up the door behind him. Wymack raises an eyebrow at Nathaniel. “Dan will explain it after practice,” he says, and then disappears into the locker room.

Dan does, in fact, tell the team that they’re going to stop practicing and start working drills for the rest of the season. The team reacts as Nathaniel expected them to, and he listens to everyone’s outcries from next to Andrew on the sofa, where he had been forced to sit last Monday and where Andrew has continued to expect him to sit.

When the bitching stops and Wymack calls the meeting to a halt, the Foxes stand up and starting filing out the door.

“Nathaniel,” Allison calls, and Nathaniel turns to her with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t fail to notice that Andrew and Kevin stop too, Andrew casually positioning himself between Allison and Nathaniel while still managing to keep an eye on Nathaniel. Allison ignores Andrew and looks straight at Nathaniel. “There’s a bet going around that I want to put to rest. Feel like answering something?”

“I don’t care.”

Allison smiles. “Nicky mentioned that you said you don’t swing. The bet going is on whether or not you’ve ever kissed anyone before.”

For a moment, Nathaniel thinks about not answering. Allison and the others know about his history at Evermore. But then he thinks about the way Allison phrased the question, putting the kiss in Nathaniel’s control. This is probably an old bet from Nathaniel’s first few days. He flicks his gaze at Kevin, who is pointedly looking away, and just as quickly returns his attention to Allison. Or, he means to, but Andrew catches and holds his gaze.

“Once,” Nathaniel says, his brows pinching in confusion at Andrew before he returns to looking at Allison. “Not sure if I’ll ever be repeating that experience, though.” Despite knowing that there will most certainly never be a repeat of that kiss, Nathaniel wants it to happen again. _Fuck_ does he want it to happen again. Kevin had been so gentle with him, not trapping him against a wall, asking first, shaking fingertips hesitantly touching Nathaniel’s cheeks and neck. Kevin’s lips were soft and pliant, not forceful and bruising, and when Nathaniel initiated the next kiss, and the one after that, Kevin was willing to let Nathaniel lead. But Kevin had been gone by the next morning, and Nathaniel didn’t walk away from Riko’s rage in one piece.

Allison flashes a charming smile as her thank you and then walks gracefully from the lounge. “Matthew! You owe me some money!” she calls ahead of her, laughing at whatever Matt says in return.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a few things before you guys dive into this:
> 
> I fixed some things when I was going through the reread. Nathaniel's birthday is now correct. The time is currently, as of this chapter, two weeks before Christmas break (and thus less than a week away from the winter banquet). If you hadn't noticed already, I moved up Kevin leaving the Ravens to the fall banquet. 
> 
> To answer a couple popular questions: Yes, Seth is going to die. Yes, we will eventually (pretty soon, actually) meet "Neil." Yes, at some point Nathaniel will ask everyone to call him Neil.
> 
> And one last thing: Time is going to be majorly skipping around pretty soon. I'll tell you at the beginning of every chapter (as I have been) how much time has passed since the last chapter, so pay attention to that as things will not be progressing in a daily fashion.
> 
> Otherwise, I'm sorry for being so late; here's your well-deserved chapter!

On Saturday, Nathaniel wakes up to a text from Riko. Against his better judgment, Nathaniel swipes his finger to open his phone and sees that it’s a picture with a caption underneath. The picture is of a junior defensive dealer, number 32, black hair, dark complexion, dark blue eyes. The message says, _He misses you._

Nathaniel’s stomach twists and rolls, and Nathaniel quickly shuts off his phone screen and presses his hand over his mouth. He focuses on staring across the room at Andrew’s tidily folded blankets set along the back of the sofa, grounding himself in where he is, what time it is, and trying to convince himself to breathe, breathe, _breat-_

Nathaniel jerks out of bed and runs to the bathroom downstairs, landing on his knees in front of the toilet. There isn’t much in his stomach to throw up – a few bottles of beer and a glass of imported Irish Cider and a few pretzels stolen from the bar – so mostly he just gags and chokes on the bitter burn of bile. He kneels there, hands shaking, trembling as he clutches the toilet seat, trying to convince his stomach to settle.

_He’s not here. Not here, not here, not here._

But he is, in a way. Forged into the back of Nathaniel’s mind by the horrors caused, by the blood shed, by the throat screamed hoarse and the lungs burning for air. And Nathaniel isn’t thinking of Riko. No, not Riko. _Isaac._

Nathaniel’s stomach rolls again, and he heaves, but nothing comes up. The bile still burns the back of his throat. Tears form and roll down his cheeks.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

He forces himself to stand, to flush the toilet and rinse out his mouth and brush his teeth. He takes a small drink from the tap and counts to thirty in every language he knows. He’s in Columbia. He wasn’t drugged last night. Nicky and Aaron are sleeping across the hall, Kevin is passed out in the living room, and Andrew is upstairs. When the sun comes up, and after they’ve had breakfast, Kevin and Nathaniel will go to Exites to get new gear and racquets and shoes.

Nathaniel runs through these facts over and over in a mind-numbing mantra. He’s not at Evermore. He’s not going to wake up in Isaac’s bed. He’s in Columbia and he’s signed to play for the Palmetto State Foxes next season.

It feels too much like a dream.

Nathaniel leaves the bathroom and makes his way past a sleeping Kevin to the front door. He needs to run. He needs the cold night air to clear his head, needs to look up and see the stars that were never visible from the basement of Evermore, within the confines of the Nest. He has one shoe on when a soft voice breaks through the dark of the house.

“Nathaniel?”

“Go back to sleep, Kevin,” he says, not unkindly, as he pulls on his other shoe and starts to lace them.

“Are you going out?” Fabric rustles, and Nathaniel assumes that Kevin is sitting up.

“I need to go for a run.”

“That’s dangerous. Riko –”

“Isn’t here.”

Two soft inhales, then, “Andrew won’t be happy.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll deal with that when I get back. Go to sleep, Kev. You can’t keep me here.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Nathaniel thinks that Kevin has settled back down, but then the floorboards creak just slightly, and when Nathaniel turns, Kevin is standing rather near him. It’s very evident that Kevin is balancing between being awake and falling back asleep. His hair is a mess at the back of his head and pressed flat on the left side. His eyelids are a bit droopy, but his eyes are bright and aware.

Nathaniel watches Kevin’s eyes flicker between his own. He can see different thoughts as they move through Kevin’s facial expressions. This would be the point where Nathaniel should start running, but he stays, mostly curious to see what Kevin will do.

Kevin’s hands come up as he takes a step closer, putting the two of them inches away. Nathaniel imagines that he can feel the heat of Kevin’s body across the space between them. Gentle fingertips touch Nathaniel’s wrists and trace slowly up to his neck and cheek. Kevin’s palms are warm and soft against Nathaniel’s pulse and jaw. Nathaniel maintains eye contact with Kevin for a long time, neither wavering or backing down. Kevin moves first when Nathaniel refuses to, and he leans in slowly, resting his forehead against Nathaniel’s.

The moment hangs there, suspended. Their breaths mingle. Kevin’s thumb brushes Nathaniel’s cheek, and Nathaniel’s eyes flutter shut at the delicate way Kevin touches him. When Nathaniel doesn’t pull away, Kevin brushes their lips together. They barely touch, but both of their breaths hitch anyway.

“I’m so sorry, Nathaniel.”

_Are you fucking-_

Nathaniel starts pulling away. He’s too stressed for this shit, too strung out to get into an argument with Kevin. Best to just leave him here like this and deal with the outcome when he gets back from his run. He’s halfway out of Kevin’s feather light hold when he looks one more time into those bright green irises and sees something different there. Nathaniel stops and stares at something he’s never seen before. This is Kevin at his rawest, at his lowest. This is Kevin being sorry and apologizing honestly, but not being sorry for leaving the Nest. This is Kevin being sorry for leaving Nathaniel behind.

Sighing softly, Nathaniel cups Kevin’s jaw and leads him into a kiss.

It’s everything that it was last time and more. Kevin’s lips are soft and pliant against Nathaniel’s, and his fingertips curl into Nathaniel’s hair just behind his ear. Nathaniel parts his lips at the same time he wraps his arms around Kevin’s shoulders, pulling them flush together. Kevin doesn’t move his hold at all, treating Nathaniel like he’s so very valuable and breakable. Nathaniel doesn’t mind. It’s so different from his abusers that he actually likes it.

They break for air too soon, and Nathaniel selfishly takes a moment to press his cheek against Kevin’s and close his eyes, just taking comfort in Kevin’s nearness. Eventually, though, he has to pull away, because Kevin is bent at an uncomfortable angle to make up for the difference in their heights, and because Nathaniel needs to go on that run.

“I won’t be gone too long. If Andrew asks, tell him I’ll be back by the time breakfast is ready.”

Kevin just nods for a moment, tongue running along his plump lower lip. “Be careful,” he eventually says, catching Nathaniel’s fingers very briefly before Nathaniel leaves the house behind. He stretches on the porch and then jumps from foot to foot before he takes off.

He sets a brisk pace, not wanting to stretch this out for too long. He just wants to run around the three adjacent blocks and come back early enough to have first go in the shower, but not so early that it’s still dark outside.

The roads are mostly empty at this hour, and Nathaniel is the only person occupying the sidewalks in this neighborhood, so it becomes increasingly evident when a silver car begins following him after only the first block. Nathaniel takes a couple of random turns, and the car remains on his tail, though they do back off a little. Nathaniel frowns, because he doesn’t know who is following him. He feels like Riko would be a little more upfront about taking him or killing him, seeing as Riko has money to pay people off. Nathan’s men, on the other hand…

Nathaniel’s stomach twists, and he casually pulls out his phone and types a message to Andrew. It’s an agonizing process, trying to focus on the message and on running and on not getting lost and on the car following him, but Nathaniel manages to send the message and then pocket his phone. He hastens his pace and continues his run, pushing himself with every ounce of strength he has. He hopes that Andrew gets his message, because Nathaniel is going to be too tired to put up much of a fight when he finally stops.

When the cousin’s house comes into view, Nathaniel slows, breath heaving in and out of his chest. He doesn’t see Andrew anywhere, and a sinking feeling settles into his stomach. But Nathaniel is spent and there’s no way he can keep running, so he eases into a stop in the front yard and bends to brace his hands on his knees.

It takes every ounce of Nathaniel’s willpower to pretend that he doesn’t notice the person getting out of the silver car. Instead he straightens up and shakes out his legs and stretches his arms above his head as he pants for breath. He’s still in his pajamas, shirt and loose pants clinging to his chest and thighs respectively. He doesn’t stop pretending until he feels a gun against the back of his head.

“You’re a wanted man, Nathaniel. Well… a wanted boy, really.”

Nathaniel recognizes Romero Malcolm’s voice, and dread washes through him. He has been expecting his father’s people, but he wasn’t expecting to have one of his best men sent after him. Is he really viewed as so dangerous that his father would resort to this? Or is his father being pressured into not fucking up?

“Where’s Lola?” Nathaniel asks, hoping that someone will notice before he’s led away, before Romero shoots him or knocks him out or whatever he’s planning on doing.

“Dumping bodies. You know how valuable she is to your father. She couldn’t get away, so he sent me.” A small knot eases from Nathaniel’s stomach. If Lola isn’t here, then Romero isn’t planning on killing him. At least not now. He has time to gain his strength back so that he can fight, since Andrew obviously didn’t get his text. “Let’s do this nice and easy, since you clearly don’t have the strength to fight back. Get in the car, Nathaniel, and I won’t have to shoot your knees out.”

The muzzle of the gun jerks against the back of his head, and then all Nathaniel hears is very soft tutting. “That’s not how this is going to go,” Andrew says. Nathaniel spins around, staring at Andrew and the knife pressed to Romero’s throat. He wonders where the fuck Andrew came from, but he quickly pushes that aside when he sees the glint in Andrew’s eyes.

“Andrew,” he says.

“Shut up, Nathaniel. Now, you,” he says, tapping his fingertips against Romero’s cheek, “be good and drop the gun. My brother is in the house calling the cops. Be a good boy, and maybe they’ll let you off easy.”

Romero lets out a string of curses and Nathaniel takes the opportunity to wrestle the gun out of Romero’s grip before he decides to shoot Andrew. A shot goes off, and Nathaniel’s ears ring at the close proximity, but he does manage to get the gun. He kicks it away and watches Andrew kick Romero’s knees to get him on the ground.

“Nathaniel? Andrew?” Nicky rushes down the porch steps, only to stop at the first real sight of Andrew standing behind Romero with his knife against his neck, and Nathaniel staring all of this down as if it’s normal. A second later, Kevin comes out of the house, followed quickly by Aaron, who has his phone held up to his ear.

“Stay there,” Nathaniel says, holding his hand out at the three other men. To Andrew, he says, “Don’t kill him.”

“Oh?” Andrew’s voice is very, very sober. Flat and sarcastic, lacking the insane high that he’s usually riding. “And why not? He touched you, and isn’t my job to protect you?” Andrew grips Romero’s hair and tilts his head back, exposing his throat. Romero doesn’t put up a fight, which is the most shocking thing that’s happened this morning.

“Because the cops are coming, and you can’t protect me if you’re in jail.”

Andrew is only silent a moment before he says, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, I know you do.” Nathaniel turns his head towards Aaron but keeps his eyes on Andrew. “ETA on the cops?”

“Five minutes or so.”

Andrew looks up at him, and Nathaniel turns his head back so that they’re staring straight on. Neither of them say anything, but there’s something behind Andrew’s eyes that bothers Nathaniel just a little.

“I could kill him,” Andrew says, and the way his hand tightens around his knife shows just how much he wants to.

Nathaniel shakes his head and sits down on the ground, knees braced up, his head drooping down. Across the street, a married couple stumbles out of their house in bathrobes. Nathaniel pays them no mind, more interested in playing the part he’s decided on. “Yeah, well, so could I. But he’s not worth it, Andrew, trust me. He’s a piece of shit and he’s dangerous, yeah, but you got up behind him easy. If you kill him, more will come, and next time it’ll be someone worse.”

“Who’s to say that’s not going to happen anyway?”

Nathaniel can hear the stress in Andrew’s voice, probably better now that he isn’t looking at him. “You don’t need any more blood on your hands.”

 _Just listen to me. Don’t do it. Hold out for a few more minutes. Don’t kill him. Don’t fuck this up_.

Sirens sound in the distance, and Nathaniel knows that it’s now or never. Either Andrew is going to kill Romero and get himself locked up or he’s going to wait and let the cops do their jobs.

“I don’t like cops,” Andrew says, but it sounds so much like a conceded point that Nathaniel smiles, just a little.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect this to keep happening lmao xD I'm probably going to end up not posting again for a good long while. Unless I get some writing done Friday, but I'm hoping to read on Friday so that I can finish this book I'm reading and move on to another.
> 
> Anyway, here's this.

Nathaniel doesn’t make a noise when Andrew shoves him up against the kitchen counter. The cop that stayed behind makes a startled threat. Wymack tells the man to wait. Nathaniel ignores all of them because Andrew is in front of him and Andrew is pissed off.

“You did this on purpose.” Andrew’s voice is flat, but his eyes are accusing.

Nathaniel only wishes they both knew a language other than English so that they could have this conversation in private. Hopefully Andrew was smart enough to avoid specifics. “Yes, you’re right,” he deadpans. “I called up my father, had a quick chat, arranged for him to send down one of his favorite men to kill me, just so that we would end up here, with Romero in jail and you about to be taken off your meds early.”

Speaking of which, Andrew still hasn’t taken his dose yet. Nathaniel wonders how in the hell Andrew is staving off his withdrawal symptoms, but regardless, he’s doing so marvelously.

Andrew fists his hands tighter in Nathaniel’s shirt and pushes him roughly. The countertop digs into Nathaniel’s back, but he continues to just stare Andrew down. “What the fuck was that nonsense back there about not being able to protect you and Kevin if I’m in jail?” Andrew drops his voice to a whisper. “You think I’ll be able to do any better if I’m locked up in a hospital?”

Nathaniel keeps his hands loose at his sides. He’s no stranger to threats and violence, but he doesn’t want to touch Andrew and set him off. He doesn’t want Andrew to do something stupid that would ruin what had happened this morning.

But he bares his teeth, and Andrew returns a snarl of his own. “I didn’t plan this,” Nathaniel says, his voice just as low as Andrew’s. “I _didn’t_. But I’m not going to pass up an opportunity when it presents itself. You said it would take something extreme. Well, here’s your extreme.” Andrew hadn’t killed Romero, had barely scratched him, and had saved Nathaniel in the process. That Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin had witnessed Andrew’s restraint was great. That the couple across the street had been witnesses as well was even better.

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“No one ever does. And who said I was helping you? Your focus is better when you’re off your drugs. If we’re going to do any good at all next year, everyone needs to be on their best game. You’ll be back to us by the time Christmas break is over.”

One of Andrew’s hands moves to Nathaniel’s neck. The cop shouts again, but again Wymack holds him back. Nathaniel still doesn’t move. The threat is there, but Andrew isn’t applying any real pressure. “And who the fuck is going to protect you while I’m gone, hm? Who’s going to protect Kevin?”

“I’ll protect Kevin.”

Andrew narrows his eyes, and his fingers clench a little tighter around Nathaniel’s neck. “Don’t lie to me.”

Sick of Andrew’s shit, Nathaniel leans in closer, putting more pressure on his windpipe. “I’m not a fucking liar. What have I lied to you about so far? I jumped onto that fucking stage to shield Kevin from Riko. I would rather let Riko have me than get to Kevin.”

“You’re not a martyr.”

“You don’t know me.”

They’re both silent for a moment, Andrew obviously not believing Nathaniel. All Andrew is giving off is a blank face and flat eyes. Nathaniel isn’t willing to back down. He won’t take no for an answer, not on this. Not after… not after his kiss with Kevin this morning. Not after all of the shit that Nathaniel has given up for Kevin and Jean.

“What would it take?”

“Excuse me?” Andrew blinks, the only sign of his confusion. His voice is too sweet.

“What would you take?”

“What are you willing to give?”

Everything. Anything. “Neil,” he whispers.

Andrew’s hand loosens around Nathaniel’s throat but doesn’t leave. “And who is Neil?”

Nathaniel swallows. “That was what my mother called me. My nickname, but only from her. And Jean, sometimes.”

Something flickers behind Andrew’s eyes, but before Nathaniel can identify it, Andrew leans closer. “And why should I trust Neil more than you?”

There’s something caught in Nathaniel’s throat, and he’s not sure if it’s because Andrew’s lips are against his ear or if it’s because he’s giving away his biggest secret, his most valuable possession. “Because Neil isn’t the son of a mobster. Neil isn’t Moriyama property. Neil was never a Raven. Neil… is softer.”

“Sounds like someone has a split personality,” Andrew says, and his voice is still sugar-sweet and taunting.

“More like a shield. I lost Neil, I lost who my mother wanted me to be, while I was a Raven, but Jean brought it out sometimes, and Kevin… When Kevin kissed me, he didn’t kiss Nathaniel. He kissed Neil. At the Nest and… and this morning.”

Andrew pulls back at that, staring at Nathaniel in something as close to surprise as Nathaniel has ever seen on his face. After a moment, Andrew laughs. It’s such a real laugh, not pushed by drugs, not forced out of his system without his consent. Nathaniel loves it. Or maybe that’s Neil. Nathaniel finds it hard to love anything.

“Alright, _Nathaniel_. You’ve got yourself a deal. I won’t put up a fuss. I’ll trust you. You keep Kevin safe, and when I come back, _you_ better be here too.” Nathaniel knows that the inflection on “you” means that Andrew wants to see Neil when he comes back, as proof that Nathaniel wasn’t lying.

Once Nathaniel nods his agreement to the new deal, Andrew steps back. Nathaniel stays where he is.

Wymack narrows his eyes and looks between Nathaniel and Andrew, but he says nothing except, “Bee’s going to be here in a few minutes with your lawyer, Andrew.”

“I’m going to go for a cigarette,” Andrew says, and the cop follows him out the door. Andrew’s on house arrest for the moment, while they figure out what to do with him. Over the phone, Bee mentioned getting Andrew into the hospital to get him off his meds, and the lawyer seemed to agree, but they still have to bring that in front of someone from the state. Nathaniel hadn’t been paying much attention. All he needed to know was that Andrew’s lawyer is expensive and good at his job. Andrew will get in.

Wymack turns to Nathaniel. “How long has that been going on?” He jerks his thumb towards the door that Andrew just closed.

“There’s nothing going on,” Nathaniel says, his eyebrows pinching.

Wymack stares at Nathaniel a moment longer.

Nathaniel gets tired of the attention and leaves the room, searching out the other members of Andrew’s pack. He finds them in Nicky’s bedroom, Aaron pacing the length of the room while Kevin and Nicky sit on the bed.

Nicky jumps up as soon as Nathaniel enters the room, but Nathaniel’s eyes first trail after Aaron to get a gauge on his mood, and then settle on Kevin.

“How’s your head?” Nicky asks. Nathaniel flicks his gaze to Nicky, having forgot that he was pretending to have been hit in the head by Romero. Anything to make Andrew look all the more the hero for saving Nathaniel and restraining Romero without drawing much blood.

Nathaniel doesn’t answer Nicky’s question. “Bee thinks that she and Andrew’s lawyer can get Andrew off his medication early, since they obviously aren’t helping.”

“Are you serious?”

“Holy shit.”

“What about the season?”

Nathaniel glares at Kevin and takes a step closer to him. “What season?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. “You’re already out. You’re just playing scrimmages. Get over it. His mental health is more important than the game.”

Kevin looks like he wants to argue, but he drops the subject and moves on to another. “What about the winter banquet?”

“Let me worry about that.”

“Wait,” Aaron says, holding out a hand as if to physically stop the conversation. “Andrew put you in charge of Kevin?”

“I’m not a babysitter,” Nathaniel snaps. “I’m just keeping him out of Riko’s claws. You can help, if you want.”

Aaron snorts, but he doesn’t say that he won’t.

Andrew’s family is fucked up, but Nathaniel has to wonder if there’s anything that they wouldn’t do for each other. “At the very least, you can keep an eye on Nicky.”

“Hey!” Nicky pouts. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Someone needs to keep you from flirting with the wrong person at the banquet. Stop complaining.” Nathaniel turns back to Kevin, who looks up at him with a weary expression on his face. Nathaniel switches to French. “I won’t let him get you. You’re not his anymore.”

Kevin shivers. “What about you?”

“I can handle Riko.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Nathaniel blinks. “You don’t have a say in this. I’m protecting you until Andrew gets back. End of story. I just made a deal with him. Are you going to fuck that up? Do you want him to be pissed at me when he gets back?” Despite his harsh words, Nathaniel’s voice is soft. He wants to step closer and pull Kevin’s head to his chest. But he doesn’t. He’s not Neil. Not until Andrew gets back. Right now he’s Nathaniel, and he needs to stay Nathaniel so that he can hold up his promise to Andrew.

“Come on,” Nathaniel says in English. “The living room’s empty. Andrew’s having a cigarette or four, but I’m sure he’s going to want to see you all before he leaves so that he can threaten you to behave.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I was going to start doing some major time jumps? Here's one. Or, two, I guess...?

Nathaniel doesn’t want to be here. If he had a choice, a _real_ choice, he wouldn’t be here. It’s temporary, he reminds himself as he paces back and forth in the gate area of Upstate Regional Airport. Temporary.

Maybe.

No, definitely. Definitely temporary. He won’t give Riko the satisfaction of anything else.

He stares down at his phone, the threat Riko sent him and the goading message Nathaniel sent back. A dare. A promise. Doesn’t matter. In twenty minutes, Nathaniel is boarding a plane back to Evermore.

It’s been two weeks since Andrew made that deal with Nathaniel and went willingly to the hospital, to get clean, to come back and meet _Neil_. Nathaniel isn’t sure if he’ll be able to find Neil after this, but he’ll try. He promised, so he’ll try.

Nathaniel wants to shudder, wants to run. But he can’t. He won’t. Andrew asked Nathaniel to keep Kevin safe. What would Andrew think of Nathaniel keeping him safe as well?

 _Let’s make this interesting_ , Nathaniel had texted. _Stop hurting people to get to me. I’ll come to you for Christmas._

Andrew would probably kill him. That’s a sound theory.

Nathaniel sighs, tipping his head back as he continues pacing. All he has is his backpack, stuffed with clothes and not much else. He sends a text to the Foxes, wishing them a good Christmas in advance, reminding them that he’s going to be out of the country with his uncle, so he won’t get any messages until he returns. To Kevin, he says to keep his head straight and to stay inside with Wymack and Abby as much as possible. Then he powers off his phone and tucks it away into his backpack.

The flight is shorter that Nathaniel remembers, and there’s a black car with a silent driver waiting for him in the parking lot. Nathaniel doesn’t argue with the arrangement and instead slides into the back of the car, his backpack in the seat beside him. The drive to Edgar Allan is shorter than he remembers, too.

Jean and Riko are waiting outside the stadium, Riko completely relaxed with a satisfied smile, Jean tense and thinner than the last time Nathaniel saw him. Nathaniel ignores Riko and walks straight to Jean.

“ _Tu m'as manqué, mon ami,_ ” Nathaniel whispers as he throws his arms around Jean’s waist and buries his face in Jean’s shoulder. Jean is definitely too thin. Way too thin. But Nathaniel holds him tighter and pretends that that’s all there is, just Jean, just the way he smells and feels, just Jean’s arms around him. This, this, this. Just Jean.

But Riko steps in before too long, clearing his throat so that Jean steps back, and Nathaniel turns to find Riko at eye level. “Oh, look at you. You’ve finally returned home, like the good dog you are. I always knew you would.”

“We’ll see,” Nathaniel says, contempt boiling in his gut. “Everyone in the nation knows that you couldn’t keep a leash on me last time.”

Riko sneers. “This time I’ll make sure to choke you with it.”

Nathaniel assesses Riko, eyes sliding up and down his form. Despite knowing that it’s going to get him into serious shit, Nathaniel makes a dismissive gesture of Riko, pretending that the man isn’t enough to be concerned about. Oh yes, he’s going to pay for that later, judging by the anger in Riko’s eyes.

“Let’s get inside, shall we?” Riko asks with a short glance across campus. “It’s too cold to keep standing out here.”

Nathaniel doesn’t have to turn around to know that there are students or professors nearby, people who would be able to get Riko in serious trouble were he to do something rash. When Riko turns around, Nathaniel follows him inside and down, down, down with Jean a step behind him. They turn left at the bottom of the stairs, moving into the dormitory part of the Nest, away from the kitchen and the weight room and the large lounge and the communal showers. Nathaniel expects to be led to the end of the hall, where Riko used to share a room with Kevin and, next door, where he used to room with Jean. So it comes as a surprise when Riko turns two hallways too soon and begins leading them down.

“Did you think you would get all of the comforts of home while you’re here, Nathaniel?” Riko asks, laughing as he pulls to a stop and knocks on one of the doors. “Did you think you could just buddy up with Jean again? Oh no, Jean is my partner now.” A heavy, heavy weight settles in Nathaniel’s stomach, and he feels more than hears Jean shift behind him. “Don’t worry, though. I found you a new partner.”

As if on cue, the door opens, and a tall, black haired man steps into the threshold. One look at Nathaniel has the man smiling, while the same look has Nathaniel weak in the knees and nauseous. “Hello again, gorgeous,” Isaac says, and Nathaniel has never been more ready to run in his life. But he can’t. He can’t, he as to stay. He made a promise to Andrew and he made a deal with Riko and he needs to be here for Jean.

Riko walks around Nathaniel and shoves him towards Isaac, who pulls him close.

 _No no nonononono._ Hands slide over Nathaniel’s arms, grip his hair. Isaac’s breath is on him, the heat of his body is tight against him. It’s too much, too much.

“Be quick about it,” Riko says over his shoulder as he herds Jean back the way they came. “The Master wants to see him in thirty minutes.”

***

It’s the weight on his arm that wakes him up.

He bolts awake to noise and light and a mass of moving people and pain, pain, so much fucking pain.

The last three – two? – weeks come back to him in short bits, thoughts, ideas, pain. Handcuffs. Teeth. Knives. Racquets. Rope. _Isaac_. Nathaniel’s stomach rolls.

“Take it easy.” French. That’s French. Nathaniel locks down on that information before he turns to see who’s speaking. Jean. It’s Jean. Jean is a walking bruise, but he’s here, he’s here at the airport with him, which means…

“Did I sign it?” Nathaniel sounds like he’s been chain smoking for thirty years, and maybe he can taste blood seeping down the back of his ruined throat, but that doesn’t matter. “Jean, please, I need to know. Did I sign it?”

Jean’s hands are slow in settling on Nathaniel’s shoulders. “No,” he says softly, and that’s when Nathaniel breaks. Jean’s hands catch him as he slumps forward in relief, weeping without tears because all his tears are gone. Everything hurts. He doesn’t even know how many fucking stitches he’s sporting. He doesn’t know how much walking is going to hurt. None of that matters. He didn’t sign it. He isn’t going to transfer. Riko didn’t break him.

He got Jean back.

“My phone,” Nathaniel says, hands shaking as he sits up and reaches for his backpack. “Can you call… Wymack? It’s the number two speed dial. Ask him if he can come get us.”

“Why can’t you?” Jean asks, though he takes the phone anyway.

Nathaniel just gestures to his throat. It hurts. Talking hurts. He’s sure that he’s tasting blood now. Poor Abby is going to freak out. He feels bad about that, about making her worry over him. He’ll make her look at Jean first. Jean probably has an internal injury somewhere. Nathaniel doesn’t remember all of Riko’s wrath, just that it was destructive and touched more than Nathaniel.

Jean mutters something in French under his breath but calls Wymack anyway. Nathaniel tunes out the one-sided conversation and tries to focus. He doesn’t remember what happened aside from Riko hurting him, Isaac raping him. He remembers Riko making him play. He remembers the Master beating him for running away, despite the fact that Riko tried to kill him. Nathaniel didn’t run, he was abandoned, and he survived, and he saw a way out and took it.

“Neil.” Jean hands back Nathaniel’s phone, and he shoves it into his pocket, ignoring the numerous text messages that flooded his phone when he first powered it on. He’ll look at them later, after he’s slept. After Abby’s looked at him. After… “Neil. Look at me,” Jean’s voice is urgent and low, so Nathaniel turns to look.

“What?”

“We need to go. We’re still in the gate area. Your coach can’t get back here.” Jean stands, and with some help, Nathaniel does too. He sways, but Jean steadies him. “We’re going to talk about this,” Jean says as he leads the way out. He’s favoring his right side, and his right hand, the one not steadying Nathaniel, is pressed over his abdomen. Yeah, probably internal bleeding.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Nathaniel says.

“You got me out.”

“I’m aware.”

“Can you stop being an asshole for thirty seconds and let me thank you?”

Nathaniel stops walking, both because he’s winded and hurting, and because he wants to look at Jean. “I don’t want you to thank me. No, listen to me. You’re… you’re my brother, Jean. Okay? You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to family. And no, no I wouldn’t have gone back for you if Riko had just left me the fuck alone, but he gave me a good opportunity to come back and prove that I’m not his anymore. That I can leave. And that I can take you with me. So don’t thank me. Please. All I did was get you out. I don’t have anywhere to take you after Abby sees us.”

Jean sets his jaw and stares at Nathaniel for a moment longer before he starts leading them away again. They’re almost to the front doors when Jean says, “I forgot how stubborn and obtuse you are.”

“I missed you too, asshole,” Nathaniel mutters, but he smiles a little and leans into Jean while they stand and wait for Wymack to show up.

Nathaniel loses track of time. He’s sure that they must have been waiting for at least forty minutes, but it only feels like five before Wymack stops his car in front of them. Nathaniel sits in the back with Jean, who tries to make him lay down, but Nathaniel hurts everywhere, so he may as well stay sitting.

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up on Wymack’s sofa, the coach sitting across from him in the armchair.

“Where’s Jean?”

Wymack grunts. “Bathroom. Abby’s taking a look at him.”

Nathaniel nods. He closes his eyes and rolls onto his front so that he can push himself up. “Andrew’s getting out tomorrow. I have to be there when he’s released.”

A glass of whiskey is slid towards him across the table, and Nathaniel gratefully takes it and swallows everything. “You want to tell me why you went back to spend Christmas with the fucking Ravens? And why you brought one home with you?” There’s something hard in Wymack’s tone that makes Nathaniel flinch.

“Because Riko…” Nathaniel shakes his head. “I had to. For… Andrew. And to get Jean out.”

A pregnant pause stretches between them. “Riko did this to you?”

“Some of it. Don’t act so surprised. I was worse when he left me here.”

“You haven’t seen yourself. You’re definitely worse off right now.”

With shaking hands, Nathaniel pours himself another glass of whiskey and downs it. He’s a little light headed and weak, but he slowly starts building up his wall to bury his pain. He needs to be able to walk, to get himself up and moving so that he can go get Andrew tomorrow.

“I’ll send Nicky and Aaron tomorrow to get Andrew. You’re staying –”

“No,” Nathaniel’s voice is as hard as he can make it right now. “Andrew left me the car keys. If anyone else drives to go get him, it’ll just piss him off. I have to go.”

Wymack takes the whiskey and puts the bottle to his lips. “Fine, but you’re not driving.”

Nathaniel doesn’t have time to answer, because Jean steps into the living room then, followed by Abby. Nathaniel is on his feet in an instant, stumbling only once before he makes it to Jean. “Are you okay?” Jean nods, his hands on Nathaniel’s upper arms, warm through Nathaniel’s black shirt. Nathaniel is fine with this touch. He’s okay with Jean touching him. Just Jean. Jean is safe.

“He is not okay,” Abby says, stepping a little closer. Jean pulls Nathaniel to him and moves his body between Nathaniel’s and Abby’s. Nathaniel tries to tell Jean that it’s fine, that Abby didn’t hurt Jean, did she? She definitely wouldn’t hurt Nathaniel. Abby stops moving, but she keeps talking like nothing happened. “He’s bleeding internally. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but he needs to get to the hospital. You should go too, Nathaniel.”

“I’m not bleeding internally,” Nathaniel says, voice a little muffled against Jean’s shoulder. “And I’m all stitched up. I’m fine.” He turns his face more into Jean’s neck and whispers in French. “You need to go. I need you to get better. Abby can stay with you, or I can call Kevin and he can go with you, but you need to get that bleeding stopped.”

“Would you go if you were in my place?” Jean asks, his French low and a little rough and very accented.

“If you asked me to, I would.”

Jean glowers, but he finally dips his head down and relents. “Only after she looks at you.”

Nathaniel smiles, only for a moment, before he pulls away. “Have some whiskey,” he says in English, and gestures to the sofa. “Abby? Do you still want to have a look at me?”

Abby’s hands are gentle as she helps guide him into the bathroom.


	28. Chapter 28

Nicky tries to keep the drive from being too awkward, and Nathaniel has to give him props for the effort. Despite Wymack’s warning for Nathaniel not to, he’s driving. Andrew would flip a fit if he saw Nicky driving when he specifically left Nathaniel the keys. Why he did that, Nathaniel doesn’t know. Not like it matters when Nathaniel wasn’t around to drive the car anyway.

Kevin is a black hole of silence and worry in the seat behind Nathaniel. Their reunion had been awkward, but thankfully they had been left alone. Kissing hurt, and being touched hadn’t really been on Nathaniel’s agenda, but he hadn’t minded Kevin’s soft kiss and quiet reprimand for being an idiot.

It’s Andrew that Nathaniel is worried about.

He pulls into the parking lot but doesn’t shut off the car. For a long moment, he just stares at the hospital, his hands tight around the steering wheel, his thoughts hours away with Jean in the hospital. Internal bleeding. The fucker better pull through.

“Nathaniel?”

“I’m fine, Nicky,” Nathaniel says, and shuts off the car. He gets out slowly, and he has to shoot Kevin a look to keep him from helping. Touching isn’t something Nathaniel wants right now. He mostly just wants to be left alone, but…. Yeah. But. But Andrew will be expecting to see Nathaniel, but Kevin needs Nathaniel here, but Jean needs a reason to stick around. But, but, but. He just wants to sleep.

They walk in as a group, even Aaron slowing his pace so that Nathaniel doesn’t have to push himself too hard too soon. Despite the heavy painkillers that Abby gave him, everything hurts. Sometimes it’s too much. Sometimes a subtle shift will make him think that it’s happening again, that he’s still in the Nest and this has all been a dream. He can’t let himself get caught up in that. He made a promise to Andrew and he needs to keep it.

The automatic doors hiss open and the hot air from the entryway is hard to suck down after the cold January wind, but once they’re through the second doors, the temperature levels out to a manageable degree. The nurse at the front desk looks up with a smile, but her expression slowly slips into something more concerned when her eyes settle on Nathaniel.

“Are you alright?”

Nathaniel ignores her concern. “We’re here to check out a patient. Andrew Minyard.”

The nurse hesitates, obviously thinking that something needs to be done to help Nathaniel.

He sighs. “I’ve already been to a hospital, okay? How do we check out a patient?” He lets some of his impatience into his voice, and the nurse finally responds by bringing out some forms.

“If you could just sign these, please.”

Nathaniel signs, and then lets Nicky and Aaron sign as well. Kevin stays in the back, hands in his pockets. There’s a tension to his shoulders, and Nathaniel isn’t sure if he’s afraid of what Andrew is going to be like off his drugs, or if he’s afraid of what Andrew is going to do once he sees Nathaniel.

The nurse directs them to a waiting room, where Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron sit down. Nathaniel stays on his feet. He’s not sure if, once he sits down, he’ll be able to regain his feet. Standing is agony too, putting pressure on his back and his bruised legs and his ruined torso, and he’s starting to get a headache by the time a door across from them is opened and Andrew and a doctor walk through.

Andrew looks exhausted, maybe not physically, but definitely mentally. Nathaniel watches the goalkeeper sweep his eyes over their group, starting with Aaron, and then Kevin, Nicky, and settling at last on Nathaniel. If Andrew is surprised by Nathaniel’s appearance, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he walks away from them and towards the front doors. Nicky is the first to scramble to his feet and jog after Andrew, followed quickly by Aaron, and then Kevin. Nathaniel takes his time, both because he doesn’t feel like ripping open several scabbing wounds and because he has the keys, so he knows they can’t leave him behind.

The others are waiting by the car when Nathaniel makes it outside, and he feels Andrew’s gaze on him like a weight as he moves slowly over to them. He doesn’t limp, and he doesn’t wince, but he can feel blood draining from his face with the pain of each step and the feel of a scab breaking.

He comes to a stop in front of Andrew. Nathaniel meets Andrew’s gaze, not ashamed of what he did. He doesn’t regret it, not if it meant saving Jean and keeping Andrew from so much pain. Nathaniel would do it all again, and that honestly terrifies him. He’s not supposed to have weak spots, but now he has three.

When he grabs Nathaniel’s chin, Andrew’s grip is tight and unforgiving. Nathaniel maintains his neutral expression, not resisting when Andrew moves Nathaniel’s head from side to side. For a brief moment, Andrew flicks his eyes down to Nathaniel’s torso, and Nathaniel shakes his head. He doesn’t pull away, though, making it clear that he’s telling Andrew not now, but later.

Andrew pulls his hand away from Nathaniel’s face and holds it out in front of him. “Keys.”

After fishing in his pocket, Nathaniel hands them over. He’s not sure how great of an idea it is to let Andrew drive when he’s tired and probably pissed off at Nathaniel, but if Nathaniel could manage the drive here, then Andrew can manage the drive back.

“You’re in the front,” Andrew says to Nathaniel before he drops down and slides into the driver’s seat. Confused, Nathaniel follows Andrew’s instructions. Before Nicky even has his door closed, Andrew is peeling out of the parking lot. Nicky yelps, but Nathaniel understands the need to leave ghosts behind as far and fast as possible. More than once, Nathaniel is thrown against the door or the center console because of Andrew’s reckless driving, but he doesn’t complain.

They make it back to campus in record time, and Nicky isn’t the only one who looks a little frazzled at Andrew’s driving. “Get out,” Andrew says, voice steady and flat, but there’s no missing the undercurrent of rage. Nathaniel makes to open his door, but Andrew grabs his collar in a fist. “Not you.”

Sighing, Nathaniel settles back in his seat and listens to the other three get out. Once they’re in the building, Andrew rolls down both front windows and reaches across Nathaniel’s lap to pull cigarettes and a lighter out of the glove box. Andrew lights two and hands one over. Nathaniel is careful when he takes it, and he holds it just as gently, close enough to his face to breathe in the acid smell.

“Tell me.”

“As Nathaniel or as Neil?”

Andrew drags on his cigarette and stares out the windshield. He releases the smoke in a cloud that Nathaniel tracks out the open window. “Our deal was for Nathaniel to go away once I came back.”

Nathaniel looks away. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be Neil. Quite the opposite. Casting Nathaniel aside would mean getting rid of all of the horrible things he’s done with that name. But it’s going to make him more vulnerable. Maybe that’s exactly what Andrew’s looking for. Vulnerability. So Nathaniel takes a deep inhale of cigarette smoke, and when he releases his breath, he lets Neil slide into place.

“I went to Evermore,” Neil says, staring down at the burning cherry of his cigarette before lifting his gaze to look out the windshield. “Riko kept harassing me about Jean and Kevin and… and about you. He wouldn’t relent threatening each of you so I made a bet with him. If he could get me to break within the three – two – weeks of Christmas break, then I would transfer to the Ravens. But if he couldn’t, then Jean would come home with me, and you and Kevin would be left alone.”

Out of the corner of Neil’s eye, Andrew takes another drag of his cigarette and remains silent. Neil takes a breath and continues. “Jean is in the hospital for internal bleeding, but Abby texted me on the drive to get you, and she says he’ll be out by tomorrow. He’s going to stay here until I can find a safe place for him.”

“You don’t want to keep him?” Andrew doesn’t sound curious or dangerous, he just sounds flat. Neil has seen Andrew off his medication before, so he knows that this is something more. Maybe the exhaustion, maybe the stress of so many weeks of detoxing. Maybe it’s just Andrew’s way of keeping a lid on all that rage.

Neil shakes his head and flicks some ash out of the window. “Of course I want to. But I’m not going to ask you to protect him, and he’s not going to heal here anyway. I want to keep him close. He’s…” Neil clears his throat. “He’s family. I want him as close as possible. But I know that he needs to heal, and I know that he’s not going to accomplish that here.”

Silence takes over the car for a moment, and Andrew finishes his cigarette and flicks it out of the window. “Tell me,” Andrew says again, and Neil knows that Andrew wants details.

“Not for free,” Neil says, shaking his head minutely. He drops his nearly-finished cigarette out of the window. “Or at least not yet. I can’t build a wall around it now. Not as Neil. You need to… I just need some time.”

Andrew rolls up the windows and gets out of the car. Neil follows suit, but he’s slower, and Andrew is at Neil’s door by the time Neil is standing beside it. Andrew slams the door closed and keeps his hand there, acting as a partial cage as he leans in closer. “Our deal was for me to protect you, not the other way around.” Simmering just below the surface is some of the emotion Neil has grown accustomed to when dealing with a sober Andrew.

“You spend all your time and effort protecting us. Sometimes you need protecting too.”

Andrew blinks, just once, very quickly, and then he grabs Neil behind the neck and pulls him in.

Neil doesn’t want to be touched or kissed, but like with Kevin, this isn’t so bad. Andrew kisses like the only thing that matters is Neil’s lips, like he would gladly starve of oxygen to keep kissing him. Neil parts his lips and kisses back, catching himself before he can raise his hands and touch Andrew. Andrew’s tongue slides across Neil’s lips, and when Neil tries to chase that movement, he tastes cigarette and mint. Andrew pulls away.

“Tell me no,” he says, looking away from Neil, past his shoulder.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Neil says, “Not right now.” Instead of jerking back the way Neil had feared he would, Andrew slides his hand from Neil’s neck, tracing the dark splotchy bruises there. “You can look,” Neil says, lifting up the hem of his shirt.

Andrew takes the fabric from Neil’s hands and slides the shirt up. He’s not careful with the way he touches Neil’s bruises or slides his fingers along the edges of bandages, but he doesn’t rip anything off, doesn’t ask to see underneath. Andrew’s movements only stop when his fingers find the bruises and small crescent-shaped scabs on Neil’s hips.

“Neil.”

Carefully, Neil takes his shirt from Andrew’s hand and pushes him away. Andrew’s expression is at once grim and murderous, and he doesn’t bother hiding it when Neil meets his gaze. Neil shakes his head slowly and once more says, “Not right now.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going home tomorrow, which is fucking sad, but maybe that means I'll get chapters out faster. 
> 
> The next chapter should finally be legit Kandreil, but I may change my mind by the time I actually get around to writing it. Who knows. For now: Matt and Jean.
> 
> Also I would like to apologize in advance if the very limited French I put in here is incorrect. I don't speak French, but I used sites other than google translate, so hopefully it's not absolutely horrendous.

Neil wakes up in pain, though that’s nothing new. Breathing takes a moment to become natural, as does the feel of the bed beneath him, spring mattress problematic against his many wounds. But he’s alone in bed, and when he opens his eyes, it’s Matt’s familiar figure that he sees across the room, and that’s enough to remind him where he is.

It’s been three days since they got back, since Andrew returned to the Foxes. Three days since Andrew kissed Neil and Neil said “not right now.” Three days since Neil decided he wanted to kiss Andrew again, though he wasn’t sure when or if that was even a good idea. He doesn’t really understand any of what he feels towards Andrew. Attraction, yes. Andrew is built really well and is gorgeous, but Neil isn’t attracted to Aaron, and the two of them are identical. It’s confusing enough thinking about being attracted to someone other than Kevin, let alone trying to figure out why he only thinks one Minyard is gorgeous when he barely notices the other.

He rolls out of bed slowly but not soundlessly, and Jacob stirs above him. “Go back to sleep,” Neil whispers. He walks across the room and grabs the Christmas present Allison had given him two days ago, and then he leaves the room. It’s slow moving, getting from the bedroom to the suite door, but he manages to drape his jacket over his shoulders – he can’t move his arms properly enough to get the damn thing on – and grab his keys before he walks out to the hall.

The wind on the roof is cold, but it’s what he needs. There was no bitter chill at Evermore, no chance to go outside and breathe. Neil blinks into the darkness, a little confused at how late it still is. It’s taking him longer this time to adjust back into a twenty-four hour day schedule, but he knows he’ll get there. He won’t ever have to go back to the Nest again. The relief alone is enough to get Neil to collapse into a heap, leaning against the short wall on the edge of the roof.

The present Allison gave him settles into his lap, and Neil looks down as he runs his fingers along the smooth wood of the small instrument. He hasn’t played the violin in years, but the yearning to try is one of the main things driving him to get better, to heal so that his busted fingers won’t tremble when he picks up the bow.

For now, he plucks at the strings, listening to the perfectly-tuned notes float around him before being carried away by the wind. This, more than anything so far since being back, grounds him in reality. Jean’s presence does nothing to remind Neil that he’s home, nor does Andrew’s solid form, nor Kevin’s fearful worry. All of those are things that Neil could have and, in reality, had imagined in order to keep him sane through his weeks of hell at Evermore. But the violin, the harsh cold of the January air… they’re real. Neil couldn’t have imagined them, not this perfectly.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, it’s Matt that walks out fifteen minutes later to find Neil where he had let himself fall, folded up like a ragdoll and shivering against the edge of the roof. “Neil?” There’s no hesitance in the use of the new name. Raphael had stumbled several times the first day, and Kevin is still struggling, but not Matt. Not Neil’s closest friend on the team.

“Yeah,” Neil sighs, in a tone that let’s Matt know he’s being stupid. “It just hurts.”

Matt walks closer and sits down beside Neil, but not before shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over Neil’s lap. Neil’s eyes catch on the part of Matt’s jaw where he knows a bruise is still visible on Matt’s dark skin. Andrew, despite his small size, managed to get a good punch in before Neil pulled him off. Matt should have known better than to shove Kevin against a wall, especially since Neil’s condition is in no way Kevin’s fault.

In the moment of silence that follows, Neil can’t help but feel guilty that Matt is out here. It could have been Jacob, easily, but the fifth-year senior striker knows that Neil is more comfortable around Matt. “Why are you up here?” Matt asks, no judgment in the question, but his tone is concerned.

Neil shrugs, though the motion hurts. His bruises are fading, but some of them are bone deep and refuse to go away. “It’s outside,” he says, tipping his head back to look up at the overcast sky.

“It’s cold as piss,” Matt says, to which Neil smiles. After a moment, Matt asks, “Nightmares again?”

“Always,” Neil says. He hasn’t gone into details yet and most likely never will, but he doesn’t see the point in lying about this when the truth is so obvious. “I’m sorry you had to get up.”

Matt scoffs. “I didn’t have to. Your scrawny ass can’t make me do anything.” Matt looks like he wants to say something else, but he just gets to his feet and brushes off his pants before holding a hand out to Neil. “Come on. There’s a long list of people who would kill me if I let you freeze out here.”

Neil accepts the hand and gets to his feet with a low groan of pain. He keeps a tight hold on the violin as he readjusts his jacket around his shoulders. Matt takes his own jacket back and then leads the way back inside. “Practice tomorrow,” Neil says, not wanting to walk in silence. He thinks part of that is just the difference between being Neil and Nathaniel, and the other part is the too-recent memories of the Nest.

“You gunna be there?”

Neil shakes his head, focusing on getting down the short flight of stairs to the fourth floor. “I’m going to Abby’s,” he explains when they reach level ground again and begin making their way to the elevator.

Matt hums, pressing the down button. The doors open immediately, since it’s the middle of the night and Neil was the last to use it. “Say hi to Jean for me.”

“That’ll make him better.” Neil huffs out a laugh. “You know,” he says, just as they’re getting off the elevator, “he thinks you’re a good backliner.”

“…Thanks, I guess?” Matt says, turning to arch an eyebrow at Neil, who smirks and shakes his head.

“That’s high praise, Matt. You’ll never hear it from him, but…” He lets Matt unlock the door, and he drops his voice down to a whisper, despite knowing that Jacob is bound to still be awake. “For the record, I agree with him.” He smiles at the taller man and then turns to the bedroom. “Goodnight, Matt.”

* * *

 

It takes three hours to convince Abby that Neil is fine, that he doesn’t need his bandages cleaned, that his stitches are in perfect order, before she finally stops fussing and leaves him and Jean alone. Neil sighs softly and leans against Jean on the sofa. Jean doesn’t move to put them closer, apparently content to just let their shoulders touch.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Neil says after a moment.

Jean grunts, shifting so that he’s reclining back more. “I wish you weren’t such an idiot. Now you can’t practice for weeks. You’re going to lose all of the muscle you gained over Christmas.”

Neil swats Jean’s knee and makes a face. “Shut up and be happy I didn’t leave your ass there.”

“ _Connard_ ,” Jean mutters, and Neil laughs.

“I always knew you had a soft spot for me,” Neil teases. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, letting himself relax into Abby’s soft sofa. “You trust her yet?” he asks, switching topics with barely a breath between sentences.

As always, Jean follows easily. “She’s… hmm. Perhaps. More than your coach. Probably not as much as you trust her.” Neil feels Jean turn his head, and he opens his eyes to look over at his friend. “Kevin?”

Neil twists his mouth and ends up frowning. “I don’t know. I thought it was something, but he’s been following Andrew around like a puppy on a leash since Andrew got back, so… I don’t know. Haven’t had a lot of time together.” Neil suspects that it wouldn’t bother him so much if he didn’t like both Kevin and Andrew. “I think he’s just scared, though. Riko is bound to be seriously pissed off, since I took not only you away, but also myself and Kevin and Andrew. He lost four players or torture toys in two weeks.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t returned fire yet,” Jean comments. “That doesn’t bode well.”

“No,” Neil agrees, his eyes flicking over Jean’s bruised face. “But he’s not getting you back.”

“You can’t keep me here forever,” Jean says, bright eyes meeting Neil’s steadily. “I don’t want to play for your misfit team anyway.”

Neil makes another face, but ends up cracking a smile. “I was thinking about that actually. Where would you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” Jean says quietly, and Neil doesn’t like the doubt that crosses Jean’s face. “I don’t want to be taken because I’m a Raven. And I want to get as far away from… from Riko as possible.”

Neil nods, and he turns his body so that he’s facing Jean more fully. It’s an uncomfortable angle, but the pain medications that Abby gave him make it bearable. Jean narrows his eyes as if knowing that Neil is causing himself pain, but he doesn’t comment. “Kevin knows the Trojans’ captain, Jeremy Knox. Would you be interested in joining them? They’re second in the nation right now, and they’re the best team in the league as far as I’m concerned. I think you’d do well there.”

Jean falls silent, staring at Neil for a long time with a look in his eyes that Neil can’t even begin to interpret. “Neil…”

Neil knows that tone, and he sits up and grabs Jean’s chin. “Don’t give me that shit,” he says, not unkindly. “You are valuable as more than just a backliner. You are more than this,” he says, covering Jean’s number four with his thumb. “You are an asshole and you’re cynical, but you’re not going to single handedly bring down the Trojans’ reputation.” Neil gives Jean an insistent look, his heart aching for his friend. “You are not poison, no matter what Riko has made you believe.”

Up until now, it was evident to Neil that Jean wasn’t sure if Neil was really going to let himself be _Neil_ now, instead of resorting back to Nathaniel. But from the look on Jean’s face, the relief, Jean now knows that Neil isn’t going away. Jean has always liked Neil better.

Neil finds himself drawn into an embrace, something warm and strong and not even a little painful. He clutches at Jean, his hands fisting in Jean’s shirt.

“ _Merci_ ,” Jean whispers, voice a little hoarse.

“ _Je suis avec toi_ ,” Neil says, rubbing his hand soothingly along Jean’s back for a moment before he pulls back and gives Jean a small smile.

After a moment of meaningful silence, Jean finally nods. “Alright, have Kevin call Jeremy, then. Don’t be disappointed when they don’t want me, though.”

Neil’s smile is so wide it’s painful, but he doesn’t care. “Be ready to hear me say I told you so when they accept you,” he counters, laughing softly as Jean scoffs and rolls his eyes.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyyy so I'm stateside again, and I'm moved into my apartment, but I don't have internet yet, and I won't have it again until Monday. I ran to a nearby coffee shop so that I could post this for you guys. I thought it needed to happen.
> 
> anyway, yeah, enjoy. Neil isn't getting away from his PTSD nearly as easily as he did in the series

By Wednesday, Jean is feeling up to moving more, and Abby is finally willing to let the backliner out of her sight, so Neil drags Jean to the Foxes’ evening practice. Neil is banished from even looking at a racquet for the next week and a half, let alone picking one up, but he’s invested in this charity-case team and their progress towards becoming a team capable of making it to the top. He likes watching them practice, anyway. It’s good for him, despite being a quick study, to get to know each player’s style intimately. Knowing how people respond in a tight situation can mean the difference between a win and a loss.

Plus, immersing himself in practice, even in watching it, keeps his mind far away from other, less desirable things. It distracts him from the looming threat of Riko, from horrifying nightmares, from memories of touch and pain that plague him like demons every waking moment of every day. He can’t lose himself in exercise, in perfecting his aim or running until his lungs feel like falling out, but he can talk shit with Jean, and he can watch his new team improve.

And they are improving. Daily. Even the fifth year seniors, who really have no reason to need to get better, are running their asses off on the court. James had made a passing comment about putting in the effort for Neil’s benefit, but it’s still difficult for Neil to wrap his mind around people being _nice_. The seniors are going out of their way to help the remaining team get better, and by doing so, they’re helping Neil. He keeps waiting for them to demand some sort of repayment from him for what they’re doing. Kindness always has a cost.

The only player not improving is Seth, which is something Jean is quick to point out as soon as practice is over and Seth is within earshot. “I’m impressed that you and Kevin have gotten them this far,” Jean says conversationally to Neil from where they’re leaning against the wall next to the stadium steps. “Now it’s just time to find a new number six, one that doesn’t weigh down the team so damn much.”

Seth stops walking and turns around in the same breath. Neil catches movement over Seth’s shoulder, maybe Allison, maybe Coach, but he’s more focused on the threat at hand. Neil bristles, ready and willing to fight to defend himself and Jean, regardless of how much his body hurts.

“You got something you wanna say to me, Frenchie?” Seth demands, nose wrinkled in a show of disgust.

Jean’s body is loose, because it would be an easy fight for him, what with the height difference – three inches in Jean’s favor – the weight difference, and Jean’s skill at throwing a right hook. “Yes, I said that you’re a talentless bullfrog and that you would be more useful to this team dead than you are alive and playing.”

Neil sees Seth’s face contort in rage, watches him wind up for his first punch, but Neil has always been a quick little bastard. He doesn’t have his knife on him, and he doesn’t want to see that blade of steel ever again, but he doesn’t need a knife to bring someone down, not anymore. Matt taught him some boxing before Neil went away to save his friends, and Neil knows well enough how to perfectly hit a solar plexus in order to knock the breath out of someone.

Seth doubles over and whooshes out a breath. Neil’s hand and arm are screaming in agony, but he doesn’t have time to assess the damage before Seth is straightening and coming back at him. And in that moment, with Seth’s height and black hair, Neil doesn’t see the number six Fox. He see’s the number thirty-two Raven, and Neil panics. But he doesn’t freeze, he can’t, not with Jean behind him, not with his fear and rage and pain having finally built up and come to a head. He attacks, ruthlessly.

In ten seconds, Seth is flat out on his back and Neil is straddling his waist, throwing punches while Seth claws at his arms. There’s blood. Neil’s knuckles are slick with it. Someone is shouting in the background, maybe several people are shouting. It’s all white noise to Neil, whose world is narrowed down to the turmoil in his chest, his fist, and the face he’s intent on bashing in.

Someone touches his shoulder, trying to pull him off, but Neil throws back an elbow and feels it connect with something, maybe a chest, maybe a jaw. Not ten seconds later, an arm bands around his stomach, a chest presses to his back, and Neil is yanked bodily away from Isaac, from Seth, from whoever the _fuck_ it was, doesn’t matter. He screams in frustration, anger, pain, but he lets himself get dragged away, lets himself get spun around and all but thrown against the wall.

There are firm hands on his shoulders, holding him in place, and a body up against his own. Neil thrashes, tries to break away. No, he won’t. He _can’t_. He won’t do that again; he’d rather die.

“Neil. _Neil_ , for fuck’s sake, damn it, listen to me.” A weight settles against the back of Neil’s neck, callused fingers squeezing tight. “Calm the fuck down. Breathe.”

How the fuck is he supposed to do that? When Isaac is still out there, when Riko is breathing down his neck, when Neil can still feel every slice of the blade against his skin, every burn of iron against his skin, every yank on his hair, every –

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, his knees giving out as the world spins around him. Breathing becomes harder and his vision dances with black spots, smoke, shadows. He slides to the floor against the wall, but that hand never leaves the back of his neck, and the man follows him down to kneel in front of him.

Tears build and fall and burn the back of his throat without his permission, but he doesn’t slump forward the way he wants to, because he knows that Andrew doesn’t like being touched without permission. “Fuck,” he whispers again, his voice shaking and raw. “ _Fuck_.”

“I thought Neil was supposed to have less problems,” Andrew comments dryly, his hand tightening on the back of Neil’s neck for a moment, almost like a squeeze of reassurance.

Neil pinches his eyes shut and tries his damnedest to keep from sobbing, to get his tears under control. Eventually he manages to say, “I’ve never had to recover from shit like this before.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything to that, but he gets to his feet and pulls Neil up with him. “I sent Jean away,” he says after a moment of leading Neil through the Foxhole Court in silence. “He’s annoying.”

That brings a small smile to Neil’s face despite the tears still trickling down his cheeks. He’s silent as he leans against Andrew, following him out of the stadium to the parking lot. Kevin is standing beside the car, but there’s no sign of Nicky or Aaron. Andrew must have sent them ahead. Would he have trusted them to the Upperclassmen? Or did Abby take them when she disappeared?

Wait… but Abby would have gone with Seth, or stayed with him, depending on how bad he is. Neil looks down at his hands, which are still slick with blood. Neil stumbles, but Andrew compensates with a muttered curse and keeps Neil steady. Kevin opens the back door and slides in, leaving the door ajar behind him. Andrew carefully, bordering on gently, sets Neil down in the backseat. It doesn’t take much prompting from Kevin for Neil to lie down and rest his head on Kevin’s thigh.

Neil spends the short drive back to the Tower coming to terms with what he had just done, what had just happened. He could have killed Seth, because for a split second, the older man had resembled Isaac. Neil had _wanted_ to kill Seth. The blood on his hands had felt good, had felt righteous. Revenge for the blood lost at Isaac’s hands, at the sharp of Riko’s blades. He should have let Jean deal with Seth. Jean had started the fight, and Neil should have let him finish it. But he’s so used to defending his friend, and the need to keep Jean safe was stronger than ever, now that they’re both in a very vulnerable position away from the Nest and in the line of sight of the main branch.

“What the fuck,” Neil breathes, curling up tighter and clenching his hands into fists. He’d just… snapped. He’d lost it, lost control, lost his fucking mind. And he could have killed Seth. Hell, Neil doesn’t even know how bad Seth is; there’s still a chance that the striker might die.

When they reach the dorm, Neil gets out without help and walks to the elevator. Andrew and Kevin are right behind him, and when they step out onto the third floor, Andrew guides Neil into room 304.

“Kevin,” Andrew says, and Kevin takes Neil without a word, steering him into the bathroom. Washing the blood from Neil’s hands takes longer than it should have, and when he feels his knuckles sting, he looks down and realizes why. He’d split his knuckles and reopened several nearly-healed wounds from Riko’s creative torture. Some of the blood had been his own, and a feeling like relief gets some of the tension to leave his shoulders. Maybe Seth isn’t too bad off.

Maybe he won’t die. Neil doesn’t need Seth’s death on his hands.

“Can I look at your arms?” Kevin’s voice is soft but firm. He doesn’t sound too shaken up. If anything, he sounds like he’s in his element. Which doesn’t make any sense to Neil, because he doubts that Kevin ever had to stitch up Riko or clean up Riko’s wounds. Riko never had any wounds. He was too busy inflicting them.

Neil nods and tries to lift up his shirt, but his arms are shaking so bad that he can’t manage. Kevin reaches in to help, and soon enough Neil’s shirt is off and on the floor.

And that’s when Kevin loses his nerve. Neil watches the resolve break on Kevin’s perfect face, watches those green eyes become dark, those full lips part in shock or fear or both. Kevin works his jaw like he wants to say something, but in the end, his Adam’s apple just bobs uselessly a couple times before Kevin quickly disappears from the room. Moments later, Andrew is in the room and shutting the door behind them.

Neil’s quickened breathing is just a kneejerk reaction to being stuck in a small room with someone else. Andrew simply shoots him a glare and steps closer. “Can I touch you?”

“I – yeah.”

Where they touch his skin, Andrew’s fingertips are feather light. It’s such a startling contrast to what Neil was expecting, what his body was anticipating, that he immediately relaxes, shoulders slumping. The bandages have been off for a couple of days now, and Neil’s wounds are on full display. Most of his bruises are an ugly yellow now, but some of them are still a muddy green, and a few are even still a dark indigo.

Andrew traces every mark, as if determined to memorize each piece of pain Neil endured to keep him safe. Andrew no doubt feels that he now owes Neil something, but Neil doesn’t want that. “It’s free,” Neil says, his eyes closing as Andrew presses a little harder when he comes across the brand. “You don’t…” He doesn’t know how to articulate what he’s trying to say. “I don’t want you to feel like I did this to get something out of you.”

“Oh, no, you did this because you’re a fucking martyr. Didn’t I say something about that earlier, victim?”

Neil smiles just a little. “I vaguely remember it coming up in a conversation before.”

“Well at least we know you don’t have long-term memory loss,” Andrew drolls, guiding Neil back to the sink. He’s not as gentle washing off the gouge marks from Seth’s fingernails, but he’s in no way too rough. “Why did you attack Seth?”

Neil lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I saw him as a threat.” Neil almost stops there, but this is Andrew he’s talking to, Andrew who deserves as much of the truth as Neil can mentally handle giving him. “He… for a moment, he reminded me of someone at Evermore. Isaac. I panicked.”

“That didn’t look like panic.”

“I guess… I shut down. I couldn’t think, so I reacted. It’s been building to a head since I got back, and it just… I finally snapped.”

Andrew nods, apparently accepting that, because he falls silent as he grabs a roll of bandages and starts wrapping Neil’s arms. He’s almost done when he starts up a conversation again. “I kissed Kevin when I got back. I wanted to see if it was a mistake this time.” His eyebrows draw together a fraction. “It wasn’t.” Amber eyes find Neil’s bright blue ones. “But kissing you wasn’t a mistake either.”

Neil swallows, and he feels how wide his eyes are, how hard his heart is thumping in his chest, in his neck. “I can’t say that kissing either of you has ever been a mistake,” Neil says, watching Andrew carefully to try and gauge his reaction.

“He’s been having a meltdown about it. That’s why he’s been avoiding you. Maybe we should think of a solution?” Andrew sounds almost mocking, and maybe he is.

“We can’t all be in a relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Andrew asks, voice sharper. His eyes narrow. “I don’t believe in relationships. Especially with cowards and victims.”

Something about the way Andrew says that makes Neil roll his eyes, or maybe he’s just… happy. Andrew is saying that he can have both of them. Neil isn’t sure to what end. He isn’t even sure how far he’s willing to go, now or any time in the future, but…

“Alright, let’s go tell him.”


	31. Chapter 31

Neil doesn’t bother putting his shirt back on when he follows Andrew from the bathroom. Kevin is in the living room, sitting at his desk the way Neil imagines someone would sit in a hospital waiting room. Anxious, tense, and worrying his hands together. He bounces to his feet as soon as Neil steps into the room behind Andrew, and those familiar green eyes track along Neil’s torso. Neil hates the guilty look in Kevin’s eyes.

Andrew scoffs at Kevin’s anxiety. “Sit down.” Neil steps forward instead of saying anything, and he takes a seat next to Kevin by pulling one of the other desk chairs over. A small dot of red blooms through the bandage on his knuckles, but he ignores it. After a moment where nothing is said, Neil realizes he doesn’t know what to say. It seems really stupid that he has to say that it’s okay for all of them to be in… well, not a relationship but…

Why does he have to be the one to tell Kevin? Why can’t Andrew? Andrew’s no nonsense would probably work better in a situation like this.

Sighing, Neil leans forward slowly enough for Kevin to be able to move away, and then Neil kisses him briefly, softly, and he feels Kevin sigh against his lips. “It’s okay,” Neil whispers, voice barely audible over the sound of Kevin’s breath catching, and suddenly Neil is being crushed against Kevin’s chest in an inescapable hug. His first reaction is to freeze up at the suddenly overbearing and painful contact, but then he forces himself to relax and lean into Kevin instead of away from him. It’s not too bad, barring the fact that he has to keep reminding himself that this is Kevin, Kevin and not Isaac, not anyone who had ever hurt him before.

Neil tries not to look relieved when Kevin lets him go. “I’ll be right back. I need to let Jean know I’m okay,” he says as an excuse, getting up from the chair and moving into the “den” room. There are boxes in here, so Neil just kind of assumes that they use it for storage instead of as a study room like Matt and Jacob do.

He pulls out his phone and dials Jean’s number, the number three speed dial, and puts his cell up to his ear. Jean answers before the second ring has finished.

“Are you okay? What the fuck happened?”

Neil pushes his hand through his hair, turning in a slow circle. “I’m fine. Minor scrapes and split knuckles. I don’t… I don’t know what happened. One second I was looking at Seth and the next I was… he was Isaac.”

Jean is silent for a moment, and then he blows out a breath. “Yeah, I figured as much.” After another small moment of silence, “Andrew didn’t kidnap you, did he? I don’t trust him.”

Laughing mirthlessly, Neil moves to lean against the wall. “No, it’s… it’s fine. Kevin patched me up. I don’t know why Andrew kicked you away, but I guess he’s just used to getting me out of my head. He’s been doing it a lot lately.”

“That’s supposed to be my job,” Jean mutters, and Neil can hear the bitterness in his voice.

“Hey,” Neil says, sharply but not unkindly. “We’re not Ravens anymore. It’s not your job anymore. It’s not Andrew’s job either, but… I don’t know.”

Jean makes a noncommittal noise. “I’ll see you tomorrow though, right?”

“Of course.”

“Take care of yourself, alright?” Jean hangs up before Neil can respond.

Neil slowly lowers his phone and slips it into his pocket. His stomach flutters and clenches in discomfort, but he walks back out into the living room anyway. He wanted this, so he shouldn’t be so fucking nervous.

He freezes upon coming into the other room, caught dumb by the sight in front of him. Andrew and Kevin moved while Neil was gone, and Kevin’s now sitting on his desk, with Andrew standing between his thighs. Kevin’s hands are flat on the desk on either side of him, while Andrew’s hands are pressed to Kevin’s chest and shoulder. They’re kissing the way Neil remembers being kissed by Andrew, like everything starts and ends with Kevin’s mouth, with the way Kevin makes a low noise in the back of his throat and Andrew’s fingers clench in Kevin’s shirt.

Neil watches, captivated, as Kevin lefts a hand to touch Andrew, and Andrew grabs it and pushes it, non too gently, back down to the desk. Neil caught on to Andrew’s no touching rule right away, but he wonders how long it’ll be before Kevin learns how to accept the word “no.”

After a short moment, Andrew pulls back and looks over his shoulder. “Well?” he asks, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. “Are you just going to stand there?” It’s as much of an invitation as Neil supposes he’s ever going to get, and when Kevin holds out his hand, Neil steps forward and lets himself be pulled closer.

Adjusting to having three people trying to be intimate is not a simple matter, and Neil feels awkward no matter where he puts his arms, no matter how he shifts his body to keep from touching Andrew, to compensate for two people facing Kevin. All of those worries melt away, however, when Kevin cups Neil’s cheek and guides him in for a kiss. The tension in Neil’s shoulders melt away, and he loses himself in the soft press of Kevin’s lips, the hesitant and smooth slide of his tongue. Neil shivers, almost shudders, when Kevin’s other hand slides into his hair.

The kiss ends with a touch on his shoulder, and Andrew turns Neil’s body towards him. “Yes or no?” he asks, his intention clear when his hazel eyes fall to Neil’s lips.

Neil nods. “Yes.” He wants this. He wants both of them. And right now he wants nothing more than for Andrew to kiss him, but he waits the three agonizing seconds for Andrew to lean in and initiate.

This kiss is just as intense as the first, with Andrew’s lips parting against his own almost immediately. Neil responds in kind, brushing his tongue against Andrew’s lips, chasing that taste of cigarette and mint that he hadn’t completely been able to have before. A short thrill goes through him at the way Andrew reacts, the surprised huff of breath, the hands suddenly tangling in his hair.

Neil doesn’t know what to do with his own hands, so he just shoves them in his pockets and balls them into fists to keep them there. He almost forgets about Kevin until large hands slide over his shoulders and down his arms to his waist. Neil shudders out a breath as Kevin’s fingertips brush against healing wounds before flattening against Neil’s stomach and chest.

Neil’s fine until Kevin pulls him back against his chest, trapping him between his thighs, and then Neil freezes. He stays like that for only a few moments, Kevin’s thumbs brushing over his bare skin, Kevin’s lips softly touching the junction between his neck and shoulder, Andrew’s motions slowing down, backing off. And then Neil reacts, jerking his hands from his pockets and pushing Andrew back, hard. He yanks Kevin’s hands away and spins away from him, stumbling over his feet.

His chest heaves with each harsh breath, and his heartbeat is loud in his ears. He takes a slow step back and, when Andrew and Kevin just stare at him, he turns and almost trips in his haste to get away. He thinks he might be sick. He doesn’t have anything to throw up, and he vaguely wonders if this will just be another night of dry heaving and burning his throat with bile.

The cold air of the roof is a welcome shock to his skin, cooling him down, making him focus. He starts shivering almost immediately.

Why did he think this would be a good idea? He’s ruined. He’s broken. He’s not allowed to want things, least of all things that make him happy. Andrew has been through something similar to Neil, has suffered at the hands of an abuser, but Andrew knows his limits. Neil has no idea what his limits are, or where they are, or if they even exist. He was trained through repetition to just take it, trained and desensitized and beaten until he didn’t have limits to what people could do to him, and now Neil doesn’t know what could be a possible trigger, what could send him over the edge. How is he supposed to function in a relationship, even if that’s not what this is?

He’s on his knees, bent forward with his forehead on the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, when the door opens and then closes, and footsteps approach. Neil thinks they must be Andrew’s. Andrew would think to look for him here. It’s just Andrew, though. There’s no second set of footsteps to alert Neil to Kevin’s presence. Andrew sits down beside where Neil is panicking and lights a cigarette – Neil can hear the pack rustle and the lighter click – and a few moments later the air is filled with the smell of smoke.

“Are you going to tell me now?”

Neil takes a moment to collect himself, to make sure he’s not crying, before he eases into a sitting position with his arms still wound tightly around himself. “It’s… it was…” Neil curses in French and pushes his hands roughly through his hair to grip the strands tightly. He owes Andrew an explanation, especially after what just happened, and definitely since he promised that he would tell Andrew. That day, when Andrew came back from the hospital, when they first kissed, feels like years ago right now.

Thinking about Evermore is painful, haunting, and makes Neil want to throw something heavy and very breakable and just start screaming. But he tries. For Andrew, he tries. “His name is Isaac.” Neil’s fingers tighten in his hair. “Riko made me room with him while I was there for Christmas. I… he hates me, because he’s straight, but I’m… I’m pretty enough that he wants to fuck me.”

“And he did,” Andrew says, because it’s obvious and because Andrew is a straight-forward person.

Neil forces himself to drop his hands to his lap before he pulls out his hair. He’s bleeding enough as it is. “His favorite time was right after Riko was done with me, when I was still bleeding, before he had to stitch the wounds or risk facing repercussions for abandoning his duties.” Neil screws up his face and once more fights the urge to vomit. “He made me… He made me suck him off. That’s partly why I… why my throat was so fucked up right away. I bit him, the first time, and he… as punishment, he… without lube.”

“You should have bit him harder.” Andrew flicks the butt of his cigarette away and lights another. Neil isn’t a fool. He hasn’t known Andrew very long, but he can see the rage that Andrew keeps bottled up, and he can see it now slipping through the cracks in his armor.

“I know.” Neil wraps his arms around himself again and leans forward a little. He’s still shivering, and for a moment, his teeth clatter together. He looks away from Andrew. “I shouldn’t be doing this with you and Kevin. I’m a mess, I’m broken, I can’t…”

Andrew is quiet for a moment, dragging on his cigarette and then slowly blowing away the smoke. “This isn’t a ‘this.’ This is nothing. And you _can_ , you just need to take it slow. But only if you want to.”

“I want to,” is Neil’s quiet reply.

“Then, yes or no?”

Neil wonders if this is a test of some sort. “Yes,” he says slowly, and a moment later Andrew’s hand settles firmly on the back of his neck.

“I promised to protect you, didn’t I? And I will. Even if that means protecting you from yourself.”

Even staring into Andrew’s very serious, intense gaze, Neil has doubts. He’s shaking his head before he realizes it. They deserve better. The whole team does, really. He should just leave, just go away. Get Jean with the Trojans and just get the hell out like he was originally planning.

Andrew’s hand tightens to the point of being painful, and Neil winces and refocuses on the goalkeeper. Andrew’s blond hair is amber in the orange light of the fading sunset, and the sharp shadows across his face do nothing to diminish how attractive he is.

“Stay,” Andrew says, looking at Neil intently, his lips thinned.

Neil blanches. “Andrew…” He almost pulls away. Andrew should know better. Not that word. Not after –

“Not for them,” Andrew says, a bitter bite to his words that Neil can’t place. “Fuck them. Don’t stay for them. Don’t stay for Kevin, and don’t you fucking dare stay for me.” Andrew shifts until he’s on his knees, but he never makes himself taller than Neil, always staying at eye level or lower. “Stay _with_ me. Stay with Kevin. Stay because you can heal here. Stay because you can say no.”

“I thought you hated me,” Neil says, searching Andrew’s eyes for any clues to his current emotions, any clues to what he could be thinking.

“I do hate you,” Andrew says, eyes narrowing.

“Bullshit,” Neil whispers, and after a brief moment of asking for consent, he kisses Andrew soundly. He’s breathless when he pulls back, but something in his chest has settled, and he doesn’t feel nauseous anymore. He looks down at his hands in his lap, making a face as he thinks back to what they were saying earlier. “I trust you,” he whispers finally, and he leans back into the press of Andrew’s callused hand. Andrew pulls Neil closer by the nape of his neck, and Neil follows the movement, letting Andrew guide him. He doesn’t realize exactly how tense he still is until the knots in his shoulders seep away when he presses his forehead to Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew is a safe place, just like Jean, just like Matt, just like Kevin might be in the future. “I’m sorry for running off.”

Andrew smacks the back of Neil’s head, making him yelp. “Now you’re just being stupid,” Andrew says, flicking away his mostly forgotten cigarette before carding his fingers through Neil’s hair.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ, guys, I'm sorry it's taken so long. Sorry for sending some of you guys into a panic about whether or not I was going to keep updating. Please, in the future, don't worry. I fully intend to finish this story, though I honestly don't know where it's going to end or how I'm going to get there. But I'll get there lmao.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is a little short, and it's Andrew's POV, so prep yourself. I just wanted an outside view of Neil for once, and Andrew has been needing another chapter from his perspective.
> 
> The next chapter will be happier, but this is pretty fucking heavy. I promise, though, that this is the last shitty thing from Neil's past. I promise. The only other shitty thing that's going to happen to Neil is canon, so y'all should be prepared for it. But this is it from his past. 
> 
> Also I'm tired and only proofread this once so like... hopefully there aren't too many mistakes.

“If you’re so inclined to run away, why don’t you ever do it when you’re actually in danger?” Andrew asks as he lowers himself to sit on the edge of the roof beside a shivering Neil. He doesn’t expect an answer, and he doesn’t get one. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights two, handing one to Neil, who hesitates only a moment before taking it.

“I’m not running.” It’s belated, but at least it’s an answer.

Andrew takes a slow drag of his cigarette. Some days he wants to hit Neil with his fucking Exy racquet; maybe that would knock some sense into him. But until then… “No, you’re right, my mistake.” He takes another drag and blows the smoke directly at Neil. “Why are you hiding, then?”

At this, Neil flinches. Andrew watches the younger man pull his knees to his chest, scarred and scabbed knuckles white from the cold and from how tightly Neil is gripping his legs. “So that they can’t find me.”

Andrew doesn’t ask who “they” are. He doesn’t have to. He reaches over and grips the back of Neil’s neck tightly, tight enough that Neil inhales quickly and sharply. “Stop it. They can’t get you here.” Andrew loosens his grip, but he can still feel Neil shiver as he buries his face in his knees.

Slowly, Andrew continues to work through his cigarette. He welcomes the silence between them. Neil has spent the last few days in relative silence, though in hindsight Andrew can recognize that as apprehension. But it’s been a nice change of pace regardless. If Neil isn’t talking, then he can’t get himself in trouble.

“Where’s Kevin?” Neil asks after a moment, voice muted against the denim covering his legs.

“He told me to come find you. Didn’t say why, but he said that you might not want to see him. Something about memories.” Andrew finishes his cigarette and flicks it over the edge. He pulls his hand away from Neil’s neck.

Neil makes a small noise, maybe at the loss of the contact, maybe because of Andrew’s explanation. “He was never… He wouldn’t…”

“Don’t,” Andrew says, not harshly. “You don’t know yourself well enough to start making claims like that.” This time when Andrew pulls out his pack of cigarettes, Neil holds out his hand for one, almost demanding.

“I know…” Neil starts, staring over campus. Andrew watches from the corner of his eye, unconsciously following the sharp edge of Neil’s cheekbone, the curve of his jaw. He hates how captivated he is by the way Neil’s red hair catches in the glow of amber lights around campus. Hates the way Neil’s eyes are so like ice, fitting right in with the winter landscape. “I’m still trying to figure out what I can handle. I mean… I guess I don’t know what I mean.”

Andrew does. Neil’s been through a lot. Too much. Andrew wishes, would give anything, for fate to have placed him with the Ravens. Andrew kicks himself every day for turning down Riko’s offer to join, his promise to Aaron be damned. Andrew could have met Neil and Kevin earlier. Andrew could have tried to help them both, to make them wake the fuck up and see what Riko was doing to them. Andrew could have – _would_ have – killed Riko, fuck Tetsuji, fuck Kengo, fuck everyone in the world.

He realizes that his grip has tightened only when his cigarette breaks, sending ashes falling to his lap.

“Andrew?” Neil’s hand hovers in his periphery.

“It’s fine,” Andrew says, and his breath shudders out of him when Neil rests his hand on Andrew’s arm, just above the line of his armband. “Don’t turn into a sap on me.”

That startles a laugh out of Neil, breaking through his sorrowful mood. Andrew almost smiles himself, despite how much he’s thinking that he should be running. Far, far away from this beautiful boy with eyes that see far more than they should. Neil saw Andrew even through the drugs. Neil knew who Andrew was after only a few days. Kevin is still guessing. Aaron and Nicky had long ago guessed incorrectly, though they stick by their assumptions like religion.

“We need to talk about Kevin,” Andrew says, looking out over campus. Neil takes his hand away and Andrew almost misses it.

“I know.”

“Oh? What were you going to say about him?”

“That’s not fair; you brought it up.” Indignant, Neil huffs. Andrew decides he likes the sound. Despite Neil’s small complaint, he continues, “I just… he feels like the third wheel, even from my vantage point. He needs…” Obviously struggling with words and trying to find a balance between the blunt honesty of Nathaniel and the slight – very slight – tact of Neil, the young backliner tugs sharply at his hair. “Some of it is his fault. Despite what he knows about us, he’s too pushy. He asks, no, _demands_ , too much.” Neil closes his eyes and Andrew watches while he tries to breathe. Andrew thinks that Neil is remembering Kevin on top of him, a hand over his throat squeezing too tightly.

Andrew certainly remembers Neil’s panicked shut-down, remembers how close he himself was to drawing a knife on Kevin just to get the larger man off. Andrew glares across campus, both because he hates that there’s an obvious barrier in his mind between Neil and Kevin, and because he knows what’s going to come out of Neil’s mouth next.

“But we… well… at least me, I guess.”

“We,” Andrew says, because he’s not going to let Neil drop the weight of blame on only his shoulders. They’re both responsible for distancing Kevin.

Neil is quiet for a moment before he continues. “We tend to shove him aside because he’s not as safe, and honestly I think that makes him worse. I was thinking about… well I wanted to try something with him. I need to ask, of course, and you…”

At this point, Andrew is willing to encourage Neil to talk about anything that isn’t the heavy weight that is currently crushing Neil’s chest. Andrew is ready for Neil to try to get away from the pain that has caused him to hide on the roof in the middle of January. So Andrew fully turns towards Neil, raises an eyebrow, and waits.

The blush that has been settled on Neil’s cheeks from the cold slowly deepens, and the younger man looks away. “It’s a stupid idea. Never mind.”

Not willing to push, Andrew shrugs. Though he can’t lie that he’s a little disappointed. He makes a note to remind himself to bring up this topic again. It might be interesting to see how creative – or boring – Neil can be in bed.

A few more moments of silence settle between them, this time more uncomfortable than the last. Andrew wants to keep Neil from his misery, but he doesn’t know how. He knows that Neil is suffering, and alone, but… what can Andrew do? Andrew isn’t an empathetic person. He doesn’t know how to relate to people. He can understand Neil’s pain, but he doesn’t understand what he’s going through. Andrew’s way of dealing with his pain… well, it helped, but he doesn’t want Neil to do that. The thought of Neil harming himself like that causes a red-hot glare of anger to surge in Andrew’s gut.

It’s bad enough when Neil panics, when Andrew can see first-hand how willing Neil is to harm himself if it just means being able to get away. Neil nearly dislocated his shoulder once trying to pull away from a light grip Andrew had on him, and that was just last week. Neil is self-destructive, but he’s not… Andrew refuses to let Neil sink to Andrew’s level.

“Can I tell you something?” Neil asks, voice a lot smaller than Andrew has ever heard it.

The transition from Nathaniel to Neil occurred in small shifts. Nathaniel was easier to anger, but Neil is quicker to react, be that violently or otherwise. Nathaniel used sarcasm as a shield, while for Neil it’s just part of who he is. Nathaniel wasn’t a liar, but Neil is more prone to hiding things. For Andrew, the most prominent change is Neil’s vulnerability. Nathaniel was a seemingly unbreakable man, someone who had enough scars to harden his skin from any more wounds. Neil’s scars run a lot deeper, and he’s more prone to showing them.

This vulnerability fucks Andrew up on multiple levels. Andrew, who is only too familiar with violence, whose first response to anything is either anger or apathy, doesn’t know how to handle this side of Neil. Andrew’s used to it with Kevin, Nicky, and the other Foxes that he honestly doesn’t care about. But Nathaniel had been strong and impenetrable. Andrew had felt as if Nathaniel could walk into a tornado and emerge out of the other side just fine. But not Neil. Neil’s pain is only too visible in those piercing blue eyes.

“Yeah, you can tell me something. So long as you’re not expecting anything in return.” Andrew isn’t ready for a game of truths tonight, but he can try to help Neil carry some problems.

Neil lets out a breath. “Don’t tell Kevin. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want people to know.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Andrew asks, because he needs to know. He doesn’t believe that anyone can put so much faith in him. It goes against everything he’s ever experienced. Andrew is nothing. That Kevin and Neil both want him in any way at all sends Andrew reeling every morning when he wakes up and remembers that it’s real.

“Because you won’t look at me any different afterwards.”

Oh no. No, this isn’t going to be good at all. “What?” Andrew asks, and though he doesn’t try, his voice comes out softer than his normal flat tone.

The shame is too evident on Neil’s face. “On days like today… on my birthday… I was Riko’s. At first I didn’t know… what that meant. But even when I was little, he would claim me for the day. I was his plaything. Right away it was smaller things. He was just really possessive. But he… he got older, and things… changed.” Neil starts rushing through the words. “He was like them. Just like them. Just like all of the other guys. I know I said… I know I lied and said that Riko doesn’t rape people. But he did. Once a year, always on my birthday. It was power, I know it was. I don’t think he’s gay, or bi, I just think he got off on forcing me down and – fuck, Andrew, he always found me. I would hide and he would find me and I’d be on my knees in no time and I always got punished for running but I _had_ to I had to he was so much worse than the others just because it was _him_ because he was pushing me down and doing everything he could to make me powerless and I just can’t… I just can’t.”

Andrew listens and waits to make sure that Neil has gotten everything out. And then, though it’s a lie, Andrew says, “I know.” He never knew about Riko, about this one more piece of hell that Neil has been harboring inside of him. But Neil’s right, Andrew isn’t going to look at him differently, but Neil will believe that easier if Andrew lies to him, just this once. “I know, and I don’t care. Look at me. You’re stronger than him. You’re stronger than all of them. And now you have Kevin and me at your back, and you’ll never have to face a single one of those fuckers on your own.”

“Did you mean it?” Neil asks, his words almost carried away entirely by the wind. “When you said they can’t get me here. Did you mean it?”

Andrew grabs the back of Neil’s neck and meet’s Neil’s wavering gaze full-on. “They would have to get through me, and that is never, ever going to happen.” He needs Neil to believe him, needs it like cigarette smoke curling in his lungs. “I made you a promise, Neil. If any one of them ever so much as touches you, I’ll kill them.” And just to prove how fucked up Neil’s life has been, that small promise loosens the tension in Neil’s shoulders and makes his head hang and his eyes fall closed.

“Thank you,” Neil whispers, and Andrew decides that he’ll do anything, anything at all, to keep Neil safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the boys are having some problems, but they're willing to try to fix it. Andrew can deny it as much as he wants, but the fact that he's willing to work to keep Kevin definitely means something. 
> 
> As promised earlier, next chapter will be much lighter.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am! It's another shorter chapter, because I'm writing these in sections instead of one sitting, and I keep losing track of everything I want to say xD
> 
> But at least I'm getting something to you guys, so that helps me to not feel quite so bad.
> 
> It's Neil and Jean <3 my babies
> 
> Also: hugeeeeeee time jump bc i'm tired of going "when the fuck will this end???"

Despite the fact that Neil has left Jean before, this is the first time he’s ever had to say goodbye. The first time, because Riko had left Neil for dead, Neil had never had the chance to apologize for any wrongdoings he’d ever done to Jean. He’d never had the chance for a lingering hug or a promise to see Jean again.

But now that Neil has this opportunity, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

It’s late at night, nearing eleven, and Neil is sitting on a bench beside Jean by the lake that borders Palmetto’s southwest boundary. The cold weather of winter is slowly going away. With the coming of March comes warmer weather, and Neil is comfortable sitting in just a hoodie.

“You could have waited until the summer,” Neil says, pulling his legs up onto the bench in front of him. “Would have been an easier transfer.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Jean says. Neither of them look at each other, their gazes settled on the reflections of the moon on the flat surface of the lake. “Andrew has a point, as much as I’m loathe to admit it. You’re not – _we’re_ not going to get better if we’re together. Too much… well, there’s just too much history there.”

Neil frowns, still not sure that he’s entirely pleased with Andrew’s interception between Jean and himself.

“And Kevin feels the same,” Jean continues, which catches Neil off-guard. Jean briefly looks over with a knowing smirk. “He’s just too afraid to say anything. He needs to work on his confidence. Get rid of that fear.”

“He’s getting better,” Neil says, coming to the defense of his… of the striker. He sighs, folding his arms over the top of his bent knees. “He’s trying, at least. That’s all I can ask.”

“But not all Andrew can ask?”

Neil makes a face. Andrew isn’t pleased with the slow pace Kevin is setting in making improvements. Though Neil knows that Andrew likes Kevin, probably more than he’ll admit, Neil also knows that Andrew won’t tolerate Kevin’s… well, whatever, for much longer. They’ve had conversations, more than one, about boundaries and the importance of consent and always asking. Kevin is either going to learn what boundaries are, or Andrew isn’t going to deal with him anymore.

“This isn’t why I brought you out here,” Neil mutters, resting his chin on his arms and turning his head to look at Jean. He doesn’t want to talk about the issues he’s having with his complicated… not-relationship. At this point he’s not even sure if a relationship is even worth it anymore. Andrew is still really reserved, and Kevin… well, aside from the consent issues, Kevin is first and foremost married to Exy. And Neil is stuck somewhere in between, still not healed from his Christmas at Evermore, still struggling with nightmares, with touching, with panic attacks and sudden bouts of fear.

The Frenchman returns Neil’s look. “Why did you bring me out here, then?”

“To say goodbye.” It sounds so simple, coming out, but in reality, Neil’s chest is a tight mess of apprehension and loneliness. He’s had Jean back in his life for over two months now, and that’s… fuck, it’s so much more than he ever thought he would have again. And it’s not like Jean is leaving for the Nest. Jean is going to California, to play for the Trojans, to make a name for himself outside of Riko’s circle. Away from the pain and abuse that they had grown up with.

Jean’s gaze softens and he turns back to the dark mirror of the lake. “Not forever, though,” he says, and something in Neil’s chest eases.

“No,” Neil agrees, and he leans over against Jean, who returns the pressure just enough to let Neil know it’s okay. “I expect weekly updates,” he teases, and Jean shoves his shoulder and chuckles. Neil’s smile fades after a short while, and he closes his eyes and lets out a heavy breath.

“You know,” Jean starts, and Neil takes the pause to focus on the rise and fall of Jean’s shoulders with his breathing, “I never did get to properly thank you.”

“That’s because I wouldn’t let you.” Neil smirks, remembering the day at the airport all those months ago. It was one of his last days as Nathaniel. It was the day he really, truly became free, with Jean and Kevin along with him.

“Yeah, I know, _branleur_.”

Neil rolls his eyes at the insult and mutters, “ _Ferme ta gueule_.”

“Okay, but really, Neil. Thank you.”

“I didn’t –”

Before Neil can finish, Jean has a hold on Neil, pulling him back against his chest and covering Neil’s mouth with his hand. Neil stiffens for a moment, but that’s mostly from the sudden movement. He doesn’t mind at all that Jean has such a complete hold on him. Jean is… Jean is safe.

“Okay, listen to me, because you’re obviously stupid and can’t get this through your thick skull.” Jean’s voice is low and very close to Neil’s ear, but there’s nothing threatening about it. “You…” Jean makes a frustrated noise and switches to French. “You did everything. Too much, Neil. You did too much. I owe you something big. Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t have done it. You know I hate…”

Neil lifts his hands and takes Jean’s hand away from his mouth. He doesn’t otherwise break Jean’s hold, remaining where he is pressed to Jean’s chest. “I know. I’m glad you didn’t have to see me all the time. I’m glad we were kept mostly separate. I wouldn’t have… it would have been harder if you were there all the time.”

Staring across the dark surface of the lake, Neil focuses on feeling Jean breathe against his back, focuses on keeping his own breathing under control. After a moment, Jean releases him, and Neil slides back into his place beside him on the bench.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Neil says after a moment. “That’s not how this works, not between us. I’ve had enough of that shit with… with my father and Riko. Even Andrew has a system of debts and repayments. But not you. We’re always even, okay? Always. I don’t give a fuck about what I did, I don’t care. I did it for me, for you, for Kevin, for Andrew. I did it to put Riko in his fucking place. You don’t fucking… you don’t owe me. Not for anything. I don’t want to be in your debt, Jean, nor for you to be in mine.”

Nothing is said between them for a long time, the quiet of the night becoming a comfort, a balm on Neil’s frayed nerves.

“What’s really going on?” Jean asks, and turns his body to look at Neil fully. Weakly, Neil lifts his hands in a short but exasperated shrug. This time when Jean pulls Neil to him, it’s slow and gentle, and Neil sags against his friend – his brother. “ _Tout va bien aller_ ,” he whispers. “You’ll get better. Everything will get better.”

“Will it, though?” This isn’t how Neil wanted tonight to go. He just wanted to sit with Jean and enjoy their last hours together before the Frenchman had to board a plane and leave. “I’m losing you. I can’t talk to Kevin without… it’s a struggle. Andrew expects a lot, and I try to give him everything but I keep forgetting to ask for… I feel like he’s giving so much already that I shouldn’t be entitled… and the team is doing really well but Seth is still dragging them down, and they’re not improving fast enough. Riko could take me back. He could. Any day he could come up here, hire someone and have me killed…” Dumping everything on Jean feels wrong, but Neil doesn’t know what else to do. He needs someone to talk to, and right now he isn’t finding that someone in anyone else.

“Kevin will listen if you make him listen,” Jean says. “You may not want to make him, because it may feel like Nathaniel, but it sounds like you need him to. I don’t know what to tell you about Andrew. He is…” Jean makes a noise, and Neil understands. Andrew is a middle ground between where they are and where Riko is. Nathaniel used to be closer to that middle ground, and even as Neil, he’s closer than Jean is, but Andrew is an unknown variable in an equation that Neil doesn’t know how to solve. “But he seems to care for you, in whatever way it is that he can. You need to work out his system of gains and losses, and maybe you can do that by talking to him.”

“It would be easier to stop trying,” Neil says, his shoulders tightening with what he knows will happen. “I’d lose Neil. I’d be Nathaniel again. But I could do something. I hate being so vulnerable. I hate –” Of course, he doesn’t, though. He doesn’t hate being Neil, not when the alternative is Nathaniel, an abused Pit Bull likely to eat the hand that tries to show him affection.

Jean goes silent for a while, waiting, or thinking. And then, “Don’t be vulnerable, then. You don’t have to be Nathaniel, but you can fight for yourself. You can be brave without being cruel. You are not Riko, and you are not Andrew, but you aren’t Kevin, either. You are you, and even as Neil, you can be the thorn in Riko’s side or the blade against his throat. Fight, Neil. Don’t give up, please.”

“I don’t know how.”

Jean tightens his arms in what feels to Neil like a protective gesture. _“Tout va bien aller_ ,” Jean repeats, though this time it sounds more like a reassurance to both of them.


	34. Chapter 34

Hello everyone!

So this is not an update, obviously. This is a very important author's note that I wanted to put as a chapter so that everyone can see and give me thoughts and whatever.

As with most longer pieces of fiction, there should have been a draft for this fic. There was not and still is not a draft for this fic, because I'm an impatient person who wanted to bring more Raven!Neil into the world. But there should have been a draft, because if there had been, then maybe this lull of mine wouldn't have happened.

As it stands, I have my muse for this fic back. Unfortunately, my muse picks up right about where Nathaniel shifts over into being Neil. I'm not happy with Neil, I miss Nathaniel, and it's time to scrap this Neil and try again.

I'm also uncomfortable with the way I rushed the relationship between the boys. I'm not happy with it at all, it feels forced, and I'm just... yeah. Everything started going downhill for me when Nathaniel disappeared and Neil took his place.

So here's the thing. I have three options, and I want everyone's opinions, so please leave comments and let me know what you think.

Option one (and probably no one's favorite option): I stop writing this fic and move on to a different Raven!Neil fic.

Option two (my least favorite option): I keep trying to write this the way it's heading right now.

Option three: I delete the chapters with Neil in them and do some edits to the timeline and shit in the chapters with Nathaniel, and I keep writing from there. 

My muse for this Neil is gone. I fucked up bad with his characterization, and I fucked up with the relationship, and I want to fix it because I love Nathaniel and I love this fic, but I want to see it develop better, and that means that Nathaniel has to last longer, and Neil needs to be built stronger so that the transition between the two is better.

But let me know what you all think, please. I'll leave this up for a while so that everyone has a chance to see it.

-Sam


	35. Chapter 35

Hello hello!

Thanks to everyone who left comments and opinions. What I've decided to do is leave this work alone as is, but rewrite it and post that as a separate work. It's not going to be updated frequently, but I mean, that can be said about all of my works lately. I'm busy and I'm unmotivated, but at least I have a direction for this now.

So, anyway, yes, I'm rewriting this fic. Not from scratch, obviously, because up to a certain point I really liked this fic, and I want to keep a lot of the content that I came up with. But I'm severely messing with the timeline, and I'm severely changing a lot of the characters/actions/etc. So when I start posting the new one, I'll be several chapters in already, but I will maintain being a certain length ahead of what I'm posting. So, for instance, I may not start posting until I hit chapter 10 in the rewrite, and then I will post a new chapter after I have finished writing the next. Hopefully, this delay in posting will help me keep the story straight, and it will help me to change anything that needs to be changed if I think of something new, before I post it for you guys.

Please bear with me, because this is going to take a long time. A _long_ time. Like I said, I'm busy and really unmotivated to do literally anything, but I still feel a need to finish this story, so I'm going to. I refuse to drop this. My stubbornness will see this fic through, even if it takes me like five years to finish. I just want to do it right.

That said, I'm already working on chapter 2 in the rewrite, so keep an eye out for the new work. It may have a new title, or I may change the title of this one in order to name the new one This Is What Hollows (bc I really like that title, idk).

The new version will probably remain just Andreil, because I'm not sure I can handle juggling Kandreil right now. But, we'll see, I guess. Just don't expect too much out of me.

 

-Sam


	36. Chapter 36

Hey guys!!!!!!! I posted the first chapter of the rewrite!!! The new fic is still titled "This Is What Hollows" and can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9639437/chapters/21776339). ^_^


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